Part 58, Chapter 811
Chapter Eight Hundred Eleven
1st April 1950
Near Hejnice, Kingdom of Bohemia
They had parked next to the road and were looking up the valley. There was not a whole lot here, just trees and a bit of snow. Gerta had an entirely different perspective.
“This place is ours” Gerta said, her voice filled with delight.
The night before they had spent it at his father’s house in Mikulovice. Kurt’s parents were happy to finally meet her and Suse. Kurt had been absent from their lives since he’d run off to join the Heer just before the Spanish War and he was afraid of the sort of reception that he might receive. He had discovered that far from being cross with him, his family had been too busy being starstruck when Gerta had walked in. It only took a few minutes for her to put them at ease. It seemed that Kurt had been forgotten until dinner when his mother had made a point of chastising him for not being in contact over the previous decade. They hadn’t known if he was still alive until they had started seeing newsreel footage of him as this great hero.
The next day they had driven to Kurt’s property in the Jizera Mountains so that they could take a look at it. Gerta said that Kurt was lucky, a friend of hers had received Crown Land like this and discovered that a military base with a 99-year lease was on it. While the annual income was good, the constant complaints from the nearby communities were not. Instead it was a small valley with lots of trees.
“I suppose you’re going to want country estate like your friend Helene’s family, a hunting lodge with its own postal code” Kurt said, half joking.
Gerta made a face when he said that. “You don’t have the Graf’s monstrous ego” She replied, “I’ll leave you if I think you’re heading in that direction.”
“Very well” Kurt said, “What should we build, a French chateau perhaps?”
“Now, I know your making fun of me” Gerta said.
“After that thing on the beach in South Africa that you insisted on telling everyone about” Kurt said, “You don’t get to complain about me making fun.”
Gerta gave him a pout, “There are far worse things to be known for” She said, “And everyone should know when a command performance has happened, so it can be applauded.”
Kurt just shook his head at Gerta’s eccentricities.
“I had all the other Officers asking me for pointers at the insistence of their wives” He said.
Gerta gave him an impish smile.
“I think we should just build a house” Gerta said, “Not large, big enough for us and a few guests is all we need. A place to escape to.”
When Kurt thought about it, that sounded perfect.
Wunsdorf-Zossen
Stefan was completely covered in mud. His clothes were caked in it mostly due to the tactics that Spear Schultz was insisting that he practice. Bone saw, buzz saw, zipper and the many other names that the MG42/48 had all denoted what it sounded like and did. The Squad tactics revolved around that weapon providing suppression fire and Stefan had to admit that it was an incredible rush to fire an entire belt of fifty cartridges through it in just two or three bursts. The trouble was that the bone saw, and its ammunition were heavy, he also had to know when to change the barrel. He’d discovered the hard way that the Spear would take extreme displeasure if he cooked one of the chromium lined barrels which became white hot after sustained fire. Most days he was on his belly, frequently on muddy ground firing in support of the rest of the Squad as they practiced in live fire exercises.
Today a miracle had occurred as they came in, Spear Schultz had found nothing wrong with anything they’d done. Or it could have just been that it was Friday and the Spear had a hot date and reaming them out would take time he would prefer to use getting ready. As soon as he heard it, Stefan realized that the latter was probably the most plausible reason and the Spear would be making up for lost time tomorrow. Stefan figured he’d be wise to take care of the bone saw first, cleaning and stowing it. Rumor had it that few things angered the Spear like a weapon failure, Stefan was in no rush to learn if there was any truth in that.
“You’re the one I’ve been looking for” Stabber Yount said as soon as Stefan made it back to the barracks. All he wanted was a shower and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. The Stabber was the right hand of the Oberst whatever he wanted Stefan had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like it.
“Can it wait?” Stefan asked.
“No” Soren replied.
Stefan was led out of the barracks into unfamiliar territory, a man was sitting in the Officer’s Mess who Stefan had never seen before wearing a field uniform of the ubiquitous splinter pattern. He had the presence of the most senior of the Noncommissioned Officers, but his face was familiar. Stefan’s mind didn’t want to work for him, so he couldn’t place from where. “Pleased you could join us, Soldat” He said, and he looked over his shoulder, “A meal for Soldat Gerstle here.”
The attendants should have been throwing Stefan out, instead they were scrambling to do as this man had said. A plate of food was placed in front of him, he looked at this with a great deal of suspicion but after months of the food that they fed the enlisted men this smelled like heaven. What was the catch?
“Have at it, Soldat, it’s rare we get a real soldier in here” The man said, “You can eat while we talk.”
Stefan didn’t need to be told twice to eat, the food was just as good as the smell had suggested.
“I met your brother when he was a bit younger than you are now, fourteen odd years ago after he shot up some smugglers” The man said, “Jost Schultz and Soren Yount say that you have some of his potential.”
“Spear Schultz was comparing me to shit he was scraping off his boots just a few hours ago” Stefan said between mouthfuls. The man found that hilarious.
“I trained Jost and you can take my word for it that one day you’ll thank him for being so tough on you now” The man said.
“I find that hard to believe” Stefan replied.
“Ask your brother about his experience here when he was a Soldat like you.”
“He told me” Stefan said, “He said that the Mad Dog himself, General Horst trained him.”
“Did Hans von Mischner really call me that?” The man asked, with a smile that might have frozen water.
Stefan’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, he knew who this was and how he’d just painted himself into a corner.
1st April 1950
Near Hejnice, Kingdom of Bohemia
They had parked next to the road and were looking up the valley. There was not a whole lot here, just trees and a bit of snow. Gerta had an entirely different perspective.
“This place is ours” Gerta said, her voice filled with delight.
The night before they had spent it at his father’s house in Mikulovice. Kurt’s parents were happy to finally meet her and Suse. Kurt had been absent from their lives since he’d run off to join the Heer just before the Spanish War and he was afraid of the sort of reception that he might receive. He had discovered that far from being cross with him, his family had been too busy being starstruck when Gerta had walked in. It only took a few minutes for her to put them at ease. It seemed that Kurt had been forgotten until dinner when his mother had made a point of chastising him for not being in contact over the previous decade. They hadn’t known if he was still alive until they had started seeing newsreel footage of him as this great hero.
The next day they had driven to Kurt’s property in the Jizera Mountains so that they could take a look at it. Gerta said that Kurt was lucky, a friend of hers had received Crown Land like this and discovered that a military base with a 99-year lease was on it. While the annual income was good, the constant complaints from the nearby communities were not. Instead it was a small valley with lots of trees.
“I suppose you’re going to want country estate like your friend Helene’s family, a hunting lodge with its own postal code” Kurt said, half joking.
Gerta made a face when he said that. “You don’t have the Graf’s monstrous ego” She replied, “I’ll leave you if I think you’re heading in that direction.”
“Very well” Kurt said, “What should we build, a French chateau perhaps?”
“Now, I know your making fun of me” Gerta said.
“After that thing on the beach in South Africa that you insisted on telling everyone about” Kurt said, “You don’t get to complain about me making fun.”
Gerta gave him a pout, “There are far worse things to be known for” She said, “And everyone should know when a command performance has happened, so it can be applauded.”
Kurt just shook his head at Gerta’s eccentricities.
“I had all the other Officers asking me for pointers at the insistence of their wives” He said.
Gerta gave him an impish smile.
“I think we should just build a house” Gerta said, “Not large, big enough for us and a few guests is all we need. A place to escape to.”
When Kurt thought about it, that sounded perfect.
Wunsdorf-Zossen
Stefan was completely covered in mud. His clothes were caked in it mostly due to the tactics that Spear Schultz was insisting that he practice. Bone saw, buzz saw, zipper and the many other names that the MG42/48 had all denoted what it sounded like and did. The Squad tactics revolved around that weapon providing suppression fire and Stefan had to admit that it was an incredible rush to fire an entire belt of fifty cartridges through it in just two or three bursts. The trouble was that the bone saw, and its ammunition were heavy, he also had to know when to change the barrel. He’d discovered the hard way that the Spear would take extreme displeasure if he cooked one of the chromium lined barrels which became white hot after sustained fire. Most days he was on his belly, frequently on muddy ground firing in support of the rest of the Squad as they practiced in live fire exercises.
Today a miracle had occurred as they came in, Spear Schultz had found nothing wrong with anything they’d done. Or it could have just been that it was Friday and the Spear had a hot date and reaming them out would take time he would prefer to use getting ready. As soon as he heard it, Stefan realized that the latter was probably the most plausible reason and the Spear would be making up for lost time tomorrow. Stefan figured he’d be wise to take care of the bone saw first, cleaning and stowing it. Rumor had it that few things angered the Spear like a weapon failure, Stefan was in no rush to learn if there was any truth in that.
“You’re the one I’ve been looking for” Stabber Yount said as soon as Stefan made it back to the barracks. All he wanted was a shower and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. The Stabber was the right hand of the Oberst whatever he wanted Stefan had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like it.
“Can it wait?” Stefan asked.
“No” Soren replied.
Stefan was led out of the barracks into unfamiliar territory, a man was sitting in the Officer’s Mess who Stefan had never seen before wearing a field uniform of the ubiquitous splinter pattern. He had the presence of the most senior of the Noncommissioned Officers, but his face was familiar. Stefan’s mind didn’t want to work for him, so he couldn’t place from where. “Pleased you could join us, Soldat” He said, and he looked over his shoulder, “A meal for Soldat Gerstle here.”
The attendants should have been throwing Stefan out, instead they were scrambling to do as this man had said. A plate of food was placed in front of him, he looked at this with a great deal of suspicion but after months of the food that they fed the enlisted men this smelled like heaven. What was the catch?
“Have at it, Soldat, it’s rare we get a real soldier in here” The man said, “You can eat while we talk.”
Stefan didn’t need to be told twice to eat, the food was just as good as the smell had suggested.
“I met your brother when he was a bit younger than you are now, fourteen odd years ago after he shot up some smugglers” The man said, “Jost Schultz and Soren Yount say that you have some of his potential.”
“Spear Schultz was comparing me to shit he was scraping off his boots just a few hours ago” Stefan said between mouthfuls. The man found that hilarious.
“I trained Jost and you can take my word for it that one day you’ll thank him for being so tough on you now” The man said.
“I find that hard to believe” Stefan replied.
“Ask your brother about his experience here when he was a Soldat like you.”
“He told me” Stefan said, “He said that the Mad Dog himself, General Horst trained him.”
“Did Hans von Mischner really call me that?” The man asked, with a smile that might have frozen water.
Stefan’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, he knew who this was and how he’d just painted himself into a corner.
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