Sturmhunde of the Panzers BY JORDRE

by Jake Crepeau

Germany, 1942. An SAS unit is captured by the Germans… Pre-history for the ‘Hogan and the General series, in an AU where Germany ultimately won the war.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

February 22nd, 1943

Stalag 384

Major Dekker stretched and rose from his bed, pausing to grin down at his companions. He definitely appreciated the warmth they gave him at night; after the previous winter outside of Moscow, he no longer enjoyed the cold. Waking to find himself sandwiched in between Schatze and Jimmy was much better than a cold bedroll in a drafty tent. When they'd been lucky enough to have even that much comfort. He'd used to enjoy skiing and other winter sports… but not anymore.

He nudged his Hund, the dog opening one eye to look reproachfully at him. She stirred also, stretched and jumped down from the bed as Dekker's bondsman finally opened one eye to repeat the dog's mournful look.

«You know, mein Major, I hate Appell,» Jim groused as he threw back the covers and padded across the cold wood floor.

«It is not my favorite Time of Day either,» the German returned, sounding terribly aggrieved. His grin belied his tone of voice though, as he gathered his clean uniform and headed out the door, Schatze scooting out as soon as it opened and nearly tripping her Master. Brewster could only chuckle and shake his head as he gathered his own things and settled to patiently await his turn for the facilities. If he were fast enough, he knew he would beat Kimmich; the Oberleutnant hated rising early even worse than the American. How Dekker did it Jim didn't know, but the Major rarely showed any signs of dragging in the mornings.

Soon the German was back, washed and freshly shaven, and his bondsman slipped out for his own turn. Sure enough, he got into the bathroom and slid the lock shut just as he heard the Second-in-Command exit the room next door. Jim grinned again; Kimmich was rarely fast enough to get into the bathroom before him, and had to wait. Still, he was never late for Appell despite that.

A cup of fresh Kaffe waited for him when Brewster reached the kitchen. Anna was up also, starting breakfast preparations, and she had a warm smile of greeting for Jim along with his drink. They would all eat, once the Germans had assured themselves that no one had been stupid enough to try to escape. It was all routine now, and even the prisoners in the compound seemed comfortable with it as the Brits waited to be sent home. Odd, the things you could get used to, Jim thought as he followed his Superior out into the early morning cold backed today by Connolly. None of the Hounds went into the compound armed, yet no one doubted that they would be deadly should any of the prisoners threaten the Major.

As usual, they reached the compound gates just as the actual count was starting. Within five minutes the report was given: all present or accounted for. Final salutes were given and returned, and the men were dismissed to retreat back into the warmth of their quarters. This allowed Dekker and his party to return to their own warmth. All in all, it was a normal day, nice and boring in its placid routine.

Breakfast was leisurely, as they watched Klink come in from the nurses' quarters and Appell there. Nods were exchanged when the older man entered; Dekker had decreed that his officers were not to salute when they came in for meals. Jim had to hide a smile as he thought how the Germans had relaxed since the end of the 'Western War'. Desultory conversation over breakfast followed, then the last of each man's Kaffe was swallowed. The Offiziere rose from the table and headed for their own offices, leaving the bondsmen to fill their time how they would; they would be summoned if needed.

At 0930 all of this routine ended, when a dispatch courier came in, stamping the snow from his boots. Jim though that those tracked motorcycles (Kettenkrad(1)) looked really odd, and they had to be murderously cold for their riders, but they did get through all this mud and snow. He helped the man pull his gloves off by the big cast-iron range in the kitchen, then brought the closed dispatch bag to Gefreiter Jäger in the front office.

Five minutes later Dekker could be heard calling for Kimmich; moments later Kimmich was out of his Commander's office like a shot, pulling his greatcoat on as he moved. He paused long enough to settle his cap on his head, then headed out the back door still buttoning it up. «He wants you, Hund!» the Oberleutnant called back over his shoulder to Brewster moments before the door closed behind him. Jim never heard the latch catch, for he was moving towards Dekker's office just as quickly.

Orders passed rapidly from that office after that. The bondsmen packed their meager belongings quickly, then Jimmy and McKeigh headed out to the prisoner's compound. Klink had already left to see that all the nurses were packing properly for a permanent move. A shame, Jimmy thought; All that work to put up that building, and it was to be abandoned now. He shrugged the thought off, concentrating on his current task.

Most of the 'common' prisoners tended to ignore the Hounds these days, having finally accepted the fact that the Americans had had very little choice. Brewster looked around until he spotted Private Swanson. "Andrew – where's George?" he asked, keeping his voice down but not in such a way as to attract attention from the others confined there.

"Don't know, truthfully. What d'ya want 'im for?" came the laconic reply. Swanson had never really cared for Brewster, and now he suspected… well, he didn't know what he thought, with all the sudden activity outside the prison-wire.

Jim wasn't about to be distracted. "Go find him, then the others. And be sharp about it!" the American said, his voice nearly a growl.

About to talk back – Brewster said he wasn't in the army any more – Swanson suddenly remembered where he was, who Jim was, and who Brewster answered to. It was that last fact that sent him into the heart of the old barn in search of Corporal Mathers, the senior surviving member of the English commando team.

While he waited for Mathers to come, Jim found the Senior British Officer for the compound. "Group Captain Cunningham? Major Dekker's compliments, sir," Jim said as the English pilot raised one eyebrow at being sought out this way by one of the German's… Hounds.

"What can I do for you, Brewster?" Cunningham had gotten used to thinking of the Hounds by their names instead of by their former ranks, as had most of the other prisoners.

"Major Dekker sends instructions that you and the other Barracks Chiefs are to select fifty men – all Commonwealth, no commandos – to pack and be ready to move out. The 384th has movement orders to entrain and head west; Dekker's bringing those men back to England with his unit. Your government is still causing delays… but I don't think that anyone will argue with Dekker's Panzers. More will go as the opportunities present themselves. We leave first thing tomorrow, so have 'em ready to go right after Appell, sir. I'll be by to get your list of names later this afternoon."

Cunningham was stunned. No one really believed that they'd get to go home from here… it was all just Jerry's propaganda, wasn't it? But now – "You sure he's not going to just take them down the road and kill them?" He'd managed to assemble enough wits to ask that, then paled as he realized what he'd just said, and to whom. But the bondsman just grinned.

"No sir; not the Major's style. If he meant to kill them, he'd do it here, in front of everyone. Believe me, sir: he doesn't hide stuff like that.

"Just have 'em ready. Major Dekker doesn't care how you pick 'em, or who goes, barring the already stated restrictions."

"Why no commandos?" the Group Captain wanted to know, his suspicions rising again.

"He didn't say, sir… but my thoughts are that he wants as few problems as possible on this trip. He's taking all the nurses back to England with us."

"Oh, I say!... Yes, I can see… I'll make sure that any potential problems are not sent along." It all made sense now, and the Englishman was in full agreement, for once, with his captors.

"I appreciate that, sir… and so will everyone else. If you'll excuse me, sir?" Jim knew that it didn't hurt to be polite, and Cunningham wasn't a bad sort. He actually had a brain, and wasn't afraid to use it, unlike some aristocrats that Brewster had had the misfortune to run into. He smiled and left at the officer's nod, and went to see if George Mathers had been found yet.

Corporal Mathers and the Englisch Kommandos, as Dekker called them, were waiting with Connolly by the main entrance to the barn. They were already dressed for the Outdoors; Mathers smiled at Jim's brief look of surprise. "We figured the Major'd some job for us, so we'd have t'go outside. No reason t'make him wait any longer than necessary."

"Good thinking," Jim agreed, glad that he didn't have to come up with an excuse to get this group off by themselves. There could very well be some loud voices in the near future, after all. "This way, gents," he added as they all headed out towards the compound gates, shadowed by two guards.

He took them to the out-building – a former garage – that he'd been chained in so many months ago. The old rusted truck-body was still there, more rusted than before – although that could be just his memory playing tricks on him. They went inside, lighting a lantern, then closing the door behind them.

"All right, Brewster, wot's up?" Mathers demanded, knowing that this was no work detail.

"Pull up a piece of ground, fellas; this could take some explaining."

"The short version will do nicely, thanks," Corporal Samuel Higginbotham cut in, impatient as ever.

"Okay. This unit – Dekker's 384th – has orders that will take them through England. He's taking some of the guys back with us, to be released. But he's offering you chaps the option to stay with the unit, as Bondsmen." Jim paused, waiting for the yelling to start.

Silence greeted him at first, broken finally by Mathers.

"Did he say why we might wish to do this?" the English corporal asked, his voice under tight control.

Jim nodded. "There're a couple of reasons, actually. He appreciates you men; if it weren't for the fact that all the English… hell, all Commonwealth forces are to go home, he'd just keep you outright. The problem you have is that you helped us keep him alive when that idiot of a Sergeant-Major and his buddies tried to kill the Major. Someone might just turn you in over that, since you were still at war at the time."

"That could be a bit of a sticky situation," Higginbotham agreed slowly. "Still…"

Jim didn't think as he spoke, the phrase was such a common thought by now. "Mein Major plans to take you men back with us and release you, with the proviso that you be returned to him if charges are ever brought against any of you for that. I just thought that you should have some advance warning – time to think it over without it being sprung on you.

"You should be aware that two of the Commonwealth nurses have petitioned to stay with this unit, to stay with their American-born senior officer. High Command has decided to allow it, and has come up with a 'Declaration of Intent' form for anyone else who might wish to stay also, so there is a precedent for it."

"We'll… think about it. Right, chaps?" Mathers said, looking around at the others.

"That's all I wanted," Brewster admitted. "No one has to make a decision today; it's not all or nothing, either. Any or all of you would be welcome to stay. As I said, mein Major appreciates you. Either way, you'll need to get your gear together and packed: this unit moves out right after Appell tomorrow morning."

"Beastly time of year to move out," Private Timothy Waters protested.

"Hmm. I don't think that High Command particularly cares if it's hard on us," Jim laughed. "They're all warm and comfortable in Berlin. We'll make it through, though. And at least this unit's not heading back to the Eastern Front – these men all speak Russian now, they've spent so much time there."

"Thanks, but no thanks, mate!" Mathers laughed at that. "This is as far east as I care to go. At least until it warms up a bit, that is."

"Couldn't agree with you more. Best if you went back to pack your kits now; the guards are probably getting concerned over what's being plotted in here," Jim remarked, only half-joking.

"Right. Off we go, then. See you at Appell tonight, Brewster," Mathers said as he herded his squad back out into the cold. They definitely had a lot to think over, as Jim had said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Trust the Germans to run to schedule, Jim thought with a laugh. Bright and early Tuesday morning, despite a cloud-covered sky, the first of the Panzers rolled out of their old encampment, heading north-west towards Warsaw. For some reason unknown to him, German High Command had decided that they would entrain at the freight yards there, instead of at the closest station. Jim's best guess was that they decided that the local facilities wouldn't hold up to the weight of a Panther – those were big monsters; at just under 45 tonnes they were definitely no light-weights. Still, that left them with only three days to cover the mud-choked miles between the farm and the closest big train yard.

Already four of the supply trucks had bogged down, and were being towed by the big tanks. Brewster could see Major Dekker trying to control his irritation, and didn't really blame the battalion's commander. The driver of the first truck was to blame, a wet-behind-the-ears conscript who barely spoke German. His carelessness and inexperience with his vehicle chewed up the road, leaving a nearly impassible morass and fouling up his transmission. The next three trucks got caught in the mire due to no fault of their own; the rest of the supply train was routed to the other side of the tank tracks. They could only hope that the ground was firmer ahead, for the big tanks made a mess of the best roads. It was going to be a long trip at this rate.

Most of the infantry support troops were on foot, as were the POWs going to England with them. These men were under only a light guard; why would they attempt to run now? The medical staff marched part of the time also. Even some of the women were walking, although truthfully Jim was surprised that more of them weren't; Dekker didn't seem to be prone to favoring anyone. The only women who marched at all, though, were the ones who would be staying with the unit. Brewster could feel his anger rising at this discriminatory treatment…

«It is not my doing, Jimmy,» the Major's voice was soft behind him. «I would have let the Women all ride, but the Fräulein Oberstleutnant found out that mein Sanitätssoldaten march part of the Time, to keep them tough. She insisted that her Nurses do so also, if not quite as long as the Men. It is for the Best; we may not always have adequate Transport available.»

«Am I that transparent, mein Major?» Brewster had to chuckle at being caught out this way.

«Only because I know you, mein Hund. You get… rigid… when you are indignant over Something. I was afraid that a sharp Bump would shatter you, so stiff were you when you saw those Women on Foot.» The German had assumed a teasing tone, pleased to see his Bondsman begin to relax now.

«You will note that the Others all ride.»

«Yep. And some of them are poking fun at the Marchers,» McKeigh's voice was contemptuous as he cut into the conversation.

Dekker scowled. «Is that 'some' or 'one', Kevin? That sounds to me more like that Simon Woman than the Others.»

«Guilty as charged, mein Major; you got it in one. Of course it's just her,» McKeigh admitted, then grinned. «The Rest are sitting as far away from her as possible. It's like they don't want to get contaminated by her… or caught by the Blood-splatter when you've been pushed too far, finally.»

Dekker was relaxed as he smiled and nodded. «It just proves that Women are sensible Creatures, by and large. Pull her out, Kevin, and make her walk.» Dekker had an unusual glint in his eyes, Jim noted… wicked mischief?!! But the German just continued blithely, «If she refuses to walk, tie a Rope to her and let her be dragged a bit if necessary. I can stand a little anger from die Schweizer for abuse of that One, and the Rest will no doubt find some Amusement in her Discomfiture.»

«They'll be glad to be rid of her for a while, Sir,» McKeigh confirmed, then left to carry out his Major's bidding. A short time later Jim heard a squawk of first indignation, then shock. The laughter of other women told the tale: she had resisted the order, and was now suffering the consequences.

It was not allowed to go on very long; Dekker called a halt after twenty minutes, and let the mud-smeared woman ride once more. Her glare said that they'd not heard the end of this, but Dekker wasn't concerned. Colonel Peterson looked pleased, and that was good enough for the German.

Despite the mud, the column made decent time, reaching their intended stopping place just before full dark. A mid-sized village, the Germans took over a number of barns and storage buildings on the north edge of town for bivouac space overnight. Sentries were posted, an impromptu field kitchen was set up, and foodstuffs were purchased from the nervous villagers. These people had seen German soldiers come through here once already, which had been bad enough; the SS and SA forces that had followed the Regulars and Waffen-SS had been exponentially worse. The people had no idea what these troops would do, and so they feared the worst.

Dekker, however, had firm control of his men. His lieutenants knew that they would suffer the consequences if anyone in their units 'embarrassed' them, and the men… well, they knew that the Major always had lots of ammunition... The officers took over the local tavern, and placed all the spirits within off limits for all, themselves included. The nurses were brought in for hot meals, then sent upstairs to the few poor rooms available for the night. Their usual door-guards took up posts at the foot of the stairways unbidden, making Dekker smile to see this. The Tavern-keeper and his family wondered at this but kept quiet, asking no questions. They wanted as little notice from the Germans as possible.

And in the morning, early, the Battalion was up and gone again before the sun had fully risen. The villagers heaved huge sighs of relief and offered up prayers of thanksgiving that they had been spared once more, and hoped that the Germans would come through their village no more.

This day was much like the first, but the roads were much better now. No trucks needed towing, the damaged ones having been repaired overnight, so the tanks were able to maintain a decent – for them – road speed. The accompanying infantry switched out riding and marching more frequently to help the men keep up, and so , by pushing the pace this way, the 384th managed to reach the outskirts of Warsaw early the following afternoon. Everyone was glad, for there were established transient barracks here for the men to move into. They had spent the previous night on the sides of the road, trying to keep warm in hastily erected tents. The women had been crowded into three trucks, and had to sleep in shifts due to the limited space. Dekker's bondswomen actually had more comfort, for they shared two tents among themselves, and were no worse off than the rest of the medical unit, unlike the women going back to England.

Dekker was actually smiling when he returned from the Garrison Commander's office. «We will have hot Meals tonight in the Mess, and hot Showers for everyone,» he told Kimmich. «The good News is that we will not start loading until tomorrow Morning, so everyone can get a full Night's Rest first.»

«Ah, good!» Kimmich agreed. «We will have fewer Accidents that way…»

«I hope to have no Accidents at all,» Dekker interrupted. «It can be done. Best of all, we will have two Trains each Day for the Armor, not one over-long One. The Battalion's Equipment should all be in Le Havre by the end of the Week this Way. The Men will leave first on several Trains, so they will be ready to load extra Supplies once we reach Dortmund. I am told that there is some Sort of Special Shipment waiting for us there – some Type of Equipment Issue, I'd guess. Plus we are being given a second Battalion of Panzers; their Armor and Gear are also going straight through to the Coast, while their Personnel's Trains are meeting us in Dortmund also. They have only Mark IVs and Light Half-tracks, but they will give us more Flexibility, due to their greater Speed. The 384th did very well when we had them; this was well before your Time with us, Sigmund.»

«Will they be able to work with us?» Kimmich asked in concern, for one never knew what type of training or experience other units might have had. This could cause severe problems, if new-comers could not perform up to expectations.

«They are supposed to be former Waffen-SS, like us, all Combat Veterans,» Dekker said, understanding his Second's justifiable concerns. «They took part in that Action in Italy that just ended, so they do have Combat Experience, at least. We've both read in the Dispatches how fierce the Fighting was around those last few Camps. But, we will see; at least I will be in Command.»

«We will survive this, too,» Kimmich chuckled. «If you could survive all that Generaloberst Lasch threw at you, you can survive Anything.»

«Almost, Sigmund; almost Anything,» Dekker cautioned, thinking about Peterson although he said nothing about the subject. Only Jim knew what he referred to… and the Hound wasn't about to give away his Master's secrets.

Later that evening, Dekker had cause to wonder about his survival when he discovered that he and his Second-in-Command were expected to share quarters overnight. He looked at Brewster in near panic, but the American just shrugged. «So I sleep on the Floor next to your Bed. It's no big deal, Sir; I'll hear you if you start muttering. You've been really calm lately; you haven't even started any Nightmares since we left the Farm, and they'd been coming less frequently there too.»

Kimmich came into the room then, followed by his orderly, Hans. He froze, taking in the sleeping arrangements. Dekker sighed at the indecision on Kimmich's face. «Don't worry; the 'Problem' has been solved, Sigmund. Jimmy sleeps on the Floor, like any good Rottweiler. Schatze sleeps on my Bed, like she always does. Rumors can be so very misleading, as I am sure you are aware.» Dekker managed not to look at Hans, for whose benefit that little speech had been made.

Kimmich was at least fast on the uptake. «Of course, Herr Major. I was just surprised that they had provided no Pallet for him. Perhaps Hans can find Something? I am sure that Jimmy will help with my Boots, while Hans goes and looks.»

Hans came to Attention with a sharp heel click and then saluted. He was out of the room like a shot.

Kimmich could only shake his head. «I am sorry, Herr Major. I was taken by surprise, that they would make you share a Room. You are, after all, the Battalion Kommander.»

«Ah, but I am a mere Major. You know how the Regulations are… But you'd best let Jimmy get those Boots off for you before Hans returns – if he does return. He looked like a startled Rabbit running out of here.» Dekker's good mood was now restored apparently, for he turned to his bed-preparations with a softly whistled tune and a smile. He nodded to his own orderly when Oscar came in, carrying an armful of blankets which he passed off to Brewster. Dekker waited until his man had left before saying anything further.

«You need not fear any…»

«I know, mein Major,» Kimmich was quick to interject. «I know how careful you are. I was just taken by surprise, nothing more. Besides, a Bodyguard needs to stay close; everybody knows that. I do not mind him here; he is harmless as long as there is no Threat to you. You may wish to leave him armed, though.»

Brewster watched this conversation in fascination. The two Germans were dancing around the topic oh, so carefully, he nearly laughed. «Meine Herren, you'd best get some Sleep. You can continue this… Discussion… in the Morning, nicht wahr? And, Herr Oberleutnant? I am armed; I just don't always carry it openly.» He eased his jacket open to reveal his service Colt in a shoulder holster, its presence unsuspected until now. He ignored Kimmich's slight intake of breath at that revelation.

«I gave it to him a Week ago, Sigmund; I was going to take it back, but then I realized that it was a better Idea to leave him with some Teeth. He just never carried it into the Compound with the other Prisoners.» Dekker carefully kept his voice neutral during this explanation.

«Again you are several Steps ahead of me,» Kimmich admitted. «This just shows that I, at least, am past due for my Bed. Gute Nacht, Herr Major, Herr Hund.»

Jim waited until both officers were settled into bed, Schatze up with Dekker. Then, since there was no sign of a pallet appearing for him, he spread out his blankets, turned out the light, and wrapped up comfortably. He was asleep almost immediately. Dekker lay awake for a little while, listening to his bondsman breathing easily in his sleep. Soothed, the German drifted off to a dreamless sleep also. Content that all was well with her world at last, the dog joined the others in sleep, although she chose to chase cats in her dreams. Not even that woke the Major, who slept the sleep of the just straight through the night, until the sun began to rise.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The morning was controlled chaos. Jim had never seen tanks being loaded for shipping before; now he wondered if they'd get this done without someone being killed. Men and machines moved everywhere he looked in a barely controlled confusion of roaring engines and shouted commands. Jim was glad that he didn't have to get any of these monsters up on such flimsy-looking perches. The supply trucks seemed easy; the half-tracks and armored cars nearly so. They just needed to get a short string of several flatcars backed up to a loading platform or ramp, then these smaller, lighter vehicles were driven on at one end of the string, then forward down the line of cars. Each gap between the cars had a 'bridge' placed over it, which the trucks, etc., drove over until they reached the most forward-available spot. There they were chained down; heavy chocks were placed in front of and behind all wheels, and then nailed down to the wooden surface of the flatcar with large nails. The half-tracks took a bit more chocking due to their greater weight, but they still weren't that bad. Not compared to the tanks.

The garrison personnel had built massive ramps out of railroad ties and heavy beams at the ends of several spur lines. Here flatcars were pushed one at a time into contact with the high end of the ramp by a small switching engine, then a tank would be carefully guided up the ramp and onto the waiting car. It took three men to 'spot' the tank into position, for the treads over-hung both sides of the car by several inches. Too much to one side or the other, and the Panther could easily over-balance the car, or just slip off the side. This was not a job you would want to trust to a neophyte, and Jim found himself grateful for these experienced men… until he saw how uneasy Dekker looked.

«Your Men are good, mein Major,» Jim said to him quietly, not wanting to distract anyone. «Surely you've seen them do this many Times….» Brewster let his voice die off at the look on the German's face.

«Mein Hund, we rolled into Poland with the Blitzkrieg. We advanced with the Army into Russia, then down into the Ukraine the same way. This Unit has never loaded our Panzers onto Train-cars before. Oh, we know the Theory… but that does not begin to compare with this Reality. This has the Potential to become a true Nightmare. I shudder to contemplate off-loading these Things, and as for getting them aboard a Ship… At least the Navy knows how to do this – I hope. And to make Things worse, I have to stand around looking perfectly calm and confident. And I am obviously failing to accomplish that, if you have noticed my Unease.»

Dekker broke off suddenly and became the confident, authoritative Panzer Kommander once more as he went charging over to the car currently being secured, and raged at the crew responsible for this Panther. Jim hid his grin as he overheard the Major chew out the men, who were apparently not chaining down the tank correctly. Even with all the noise and bustle it was no great strain to overhear Dekker; hell, half the freight yard could probably hear him, the way he was screaming at the slacking men. He rather thought they were lucky: Dekker hadn't shot any of them … yet. Kimmich and Oberfeldwebel Seidel joined him there, until the Panzer was secured to all of their satisfaction. The little switch engine pulled the loaded car away and joined it to the lengthening line of cars on a nearby spur track, then pushed the next car into position for the cycle to repeat itself. Now it was easy to see why High Command had sent them all the way up to Warsaw for this; the process would have been much worse at their local station. It would take them several days as it was, and that was with three loading ramps in use here.

Dekker would not be able to stay to watch the loading completed, nor would his Command staff. His orders had been quite specific about that – the local Panzer Commander would be assuming responsibility for entraining the Battalion after the 384th's personnel left that evening. There was that shipment in Dortmund that needed their attention, and a second Battalion's personnel to integrate into a new Panzer Regiment.

There was really nothing Dekker could do to help, so at last he allowed his Hounds and his Chief Medical Offizier to chase him away for a hot meal around noon. Spring was still a long way off; a chill rain had started to fall. It was just what they needed to make the day as miserable as possible – no one dared to mention the word 'snow' in the Major's hearing. But he went at last, and was greeted by an … interesting… sight as he neared the messhall.

Someone had decreed – without consulting Dekker first – that all the prisoners in transit should be fed at one sitting, without waiting for their usual guards. This should have been no problem, except for the fact that some of the guards assigned to escort them were… the kindest description was 'not German Nationals or of German extraction.' They were Bulgarians, and Moslems, and had apparently decided that the nurses… It could have been Italy all over again, except that the Englisch Kommandos were in with the others. A group of soldiers running towards the messhall was the first hint of a problem of some sort; at Dekker's waved command all the Hounds save for McKeigh and Davidson took off in that direction also, with Brewster at their head. Dekker followed at a more dignified pace.

There were gunshots just before Dekker went through that door. The other German guards were too shocked; they couldn't decide how to respond to the situation, for there were the Hounds and the Englisch Kommandos standing between the women and the Bulgarians, and there were men down on the floor dead or dying. None of the soldiers had the courage or determination to even try to disarm these bondsmen, for they had been told in no uncertain terms that they Belonged to Dekker, and his reputation had preceded him.

He lived up to it there. "Vhat happened here?" he demanded, and it was Corporal Mathers so addressed.

"Herr Major, those… Schweinehünde," the insult was deliberate on Mathers' part. "They thought as how they could make free wi' the ladies, here. The Fräuleins said 'No', the Schweine tried to insist. No one else seemed to care, or to want to stop them, so we stepped in. It were about to get ugly when Jimmy an' the Pack turned up. They stepped in, an' I'm right glad they got here when they did, 'cause the guards were startin' t' look at us right nasty-like, if you know wot I mean, Sir."

Dekker switched to German, for he realized that the other onlookers needed to hear and be able to understand this conversation, to avoid future repercussions for his men. «So these Men here on the Floor – they are the Ones who would attack my Women?» Dekker knew that he needed to be sure about this before he took any sort of action.

«Yessir, Herr Major,» Mathers confirmed, also in German. «Your Hünde were quite careful who they shot at, although these Others were not. Those two Men over there,» he indicated an area off to his left, where several wounded soldiers were being tended by their comrades. «They were hit by stray Bullets, but not from your Hounds' Weapons.»

«You are certain? Were any Others involved?»

«No Sir; those that are down were the only Assailants,» the Engländer insisted .

"«Very well,» Dekker said, then motioned off-handedly to some of his other men who were now gathered behind him. They wasted as little motion as their commander, although they did drag the wounded men outside before finishing them off. Dekker didn't flinch at the shots; he glared at the remaining Bulgarians still gathered there. «Clean this Blood up! Schnell!» he snapped, then he glared at their Unit Commander.

«Any more such Incidents, Oberstleutnant, and you will join your Men cooling outside. Do I make myself clear?»

The Bulgarian officer stared in shock, but wisely realized the inadvisability of telling this lowly Major that he was out of line. His men had been in the wrong, and besides, there was something about this German and his men that was unpleasantly familiar, a dangerous air… He realized what his instincts had been warning him of when one of the Bondsmen, one of those called 'Hund', responded to his Superior's next order with an unexpected title.

«Come, Jimmy we will find somewhere else to eat,» the German had called.

«Jawohl, mein Sturmbannführer,» the man had answered, intentionally using the older, now forbidden rank designation. And the Bulgarian Lieutenant Colonel swallowed hard, realizing just how close to death he himself had been.

But the Panzer Major had ignored the rest of the Bulgarians, herding his female prisoners out of the messhall before him, and heading them towards the base's Officers' Club, where they should have been brought to begin with, in his opinion. Colonel Peterson went quietly along with the rest of the women, grateful for once for Dekker's high-handed, blood-thirsty methods. He obviously had had reasons for being the way he was, and she was no longer inclined to complain about it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Oddly, loading seemed to go much smoother and faster the rest of that afternoon. The men worked under bright lights well into the evening, loading and securing some of the smaller vehicles, and stacking waiting boxcars with munitions and other supplies and gear. The half-track cargo haulers would be left behind for further use on the Eastern front; Dekker had been grateful to have them, but he would not mourn their loss. Regular wheeled supply trucks would be waiting for them in Le Havre, for they would not be dealing with such severe climatic conditions at their destination… or so High Command said. Dekker didn't know – his final orders would be given to him once they reached Liverpool, England.

So the day passed quickly for the German Major and his men. He had taken time out for supper; the Officers' Club would not serve the nurses unless Dekker was there as their escort. Now it was time to board the last train and follow the long-gone sun. One troop-train had already headed out, carrying his Infanterie, Panzergrenadieren, and Support personnel; this one would take the Panzer crews, the returning POWs and Commonwealth nurses, his Offizieren, and the bondsmen. It was a long train and would be a long ride; stops were planned to allow the passengers to eat something and to allow other trains to pass around theirs, heading east to the front.

Dekker had noticed that there was surprisingly little traffic in Warsaw heading east. After commenting about it to one of the officers supervising the loading, he was uncertain how he felt to learn that an armistice had been signed with Russia. Germany had been ceded all the lands that they had taken from the so-called Soviet Union, and now occupied, including all of the Ukraine, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Belarus, the Crimea, and the Caucasus. The Japanese Empire must have been pressing the Russians extremely hard along the Chinese border for them to have yielded so much territory with barely an argument; the USSR clearly didn't want to have to worry about a war with both Germany and the Japanese at the same time. Dekker personally felt that the High Command was making a mistake in giving the Russians this breathing space, but he had to agree that it would be good for Germany to have the chance to concentrate on consolidating her own gains, both in the east and elsewhere. They had Italy now to straighten out, and Vichy France to bring further under their control. Then there was North Africa to develop, for the oil there. The Arab tribes would have to be gotten under firm control, but they would have to move carefully while doing so; they did not want a repeat of the last war now. Hopefully this time they would manage to keep the Turks out of it, for they had seemed only to create problems with the more primitive nomadic tribes. Fortunately North Africa was no concern of his; that would probably be Rommel's problem, since he had proven so effective there against the Commonwealth with such limited forces at his disposal.

No, Dekker's war had been against the Russians, and he knew them too well. Now he'd just have to learn something else. He turned his thoughts and speculations towards the future as he and his Pack settled into the comfortable command car that this train had been provided with, and resigned himself to the inactivity and, hopefully, peace of the trip west.

There was a field kitchen set up alongside their platform in Berlin, just as there had been the previous day at Poznan, allowing the men to have a hot dinner instead of field rations as at breakfast. Facilities again were sparse and primitive, but no one complained, not even the women, for they had all known worse. There would be a second long lay-over here, like they'd had the day before, both to allow traffic to pass around them and to mask their movement by traveling at night. Dekker checked on his other train-load of men at the platform to the rear of the field kitchen. He found them all to be in good spirits, now that they'd had a hot dinner also. Everyone was quite sick of the field rations after their tours on the Ostfront, but they knew enough to be grateful to have even them at times. The men would all be given a second hot meal in the evening, then after dark the trains would pull out once more, Dekker's in the lead this time. Only the Military, Dekker thought with a snort of disgust, could turn a day-trip into three days of travel. Still, Dortmund wasn't all that far now; they would be there sometime the next morning, barring mishaps, and would spend a week there while Dekker integrated the command structures of his two Panzer Battalions into one cohesive Regiment. It was a challenge that the young German found himself looking forward to, one he was determined to meet successfully.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was late morning before the train pulled into the station at Dortmund. Dekker's men clustered around him, loaded down with their gear and dufflebags as well as his. Schatze whined and barked nervously at all the excitement, her leash securely held by Oskar. All their personal effects had to be off-loaded, for the trains would go on to other service while they were here; others would be provided when it was time for them to go. These would be mixed trains, cargo and passengers, for the men would continue on to Le Havre with additional supplies, the troop cars trailing after the boxcars, being lighter laden. It was looking more and more like the 384th and her sister battalion were heading into a major campaign somewhere, although Dekker couldn't figure out where.

Officers and men spilled from the cars as the men detrained and rapidly formed up in the street beyond the station buildings. Even Jimmy had to admit that the men looked good as they marched off down the road to the local recruitment and training barracks. Emptied now of the local militia, this was where Dekker's men would be quartered while in Dortmund. The Hound looked on in some concern at the nurses when they, too, fell into formation and followed the group ahead of them, but his fears were laid to rest when he saw them directed to a small barracks building not far from the officers' quarters where Dekker and his staff would be billeted. Brewster wasn't given long to dwell on such matters, though.

«Jimmy: komm' mit,» Dekker called to get his Hound's attention, then turned to head away from his temporary quarters. He went looking for the Garrison Commander's office, trailed by Brewster and Oberfeldwebel Seidel. Kimmich would stay at the barracks to supervise as the troops settled into their temporary quarters. Dekker had to admit that he was justifiably proud of all his men, even the bondsmen. Jimmy followed respectfully at his heels, drawing many worried looks, for he now carried his service pistol openly on his belt. The bondsman returned look for look, sometimes giving a tight-mouthed grin to those who looked most disapprovingly at him. If he had been a Rottweiler in truth, Dekker felt that his ruff would have been up, and he would have been snarling bare-fanged at some of those men.

The base office found, Dekker stood with his men before the Commander. The Oberst in charge at Dortmund clearly did not approve of an armed bondsman, although he said nothing about this to Dekker. Instead, he passed over a thick packet of paperwork and had the young Major sign for it, then abruptly dismissed him. Dekker hid his confusion with a salute, then left the office to try to find Enlightenment among those papers. He mulled over this strange interview as they returned to his quarters so he could examine what were clearly more orders for him. Finally he had time and privacy to read what he'd been handed, watched only by his Hound and Seidel.

First and foremost was an order to have all the men report to a certain warehouse first thing in the morning for a new uniform issue, although no details were given about what was to be included in that. Oddly, even the officers were being issued new uniforms, instead of having to purchase their own that would conform to what were apparently new regs. More mysteriously, the new men coming up from Italy would also get an issue once they arrived.

«This is not terribly informative,» Dekker complained to his companions once he'd read through all the paperwork. «It does not say why we need new Uniforms, although no doubt some of the Men do.»

«I do not believe in 'the Kindness of their Hearts'.» muttered Seidel. «Officers always have to pay for their own Uniforms; why do they suddenly provide for you – or do they?»

«According to this Paperwork they are, this Time at least. We will just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings. We have tonight though, and a Civilized City to enjoy it in. I think that Dinner out would be a good Thing.» Dekker grinned now, looking like the eager young officer he should have been, instead of a war-weary veteran.

With a light step he headed back outside. «Kimmich!» he called, his voice loud but conveying no urgency.

«Jawohl, Herr Major?» the Oberleutnant responded as he stepped out of the door to the nurses' barracks. His curiosity was fully aroused, for he'd never heard that particular tone in his commander's voice before, nor seen that bounce in his step as the Major came over to him. He'd never realized just how young Dekker actually was…

«I need you to round up seven of our young Offizieren, Sigmund,» Dekker declared, mischief now lighting his eyes. «We are all going out Tonight – surely Someone can tell us where Someplace good to eat at can be found. Tell them Dress Uniforms, if you would. We will go dancing after we eat, if there is any such Place to be found here. Or to some Club… there must be Entertainment of some sort here.

«Jimmy: go see if you can find out for me, Ja? You and the Hünde are coming also, by the Way. We are celebrating our new Orders, for we are not heading East this Time.»

Jim came to attention with a click of his heels and a laugh. «Zu Befehl, mein Major – and gladly. Be back soon.» Brewster paused just long enough to secure the company of a nearby Panzerschütze … for safety's sake, he explained to the young man, then left on his errand.

And Dekker voluntarily approached the nurses' quarters for the first time in two weeks. He knocked briefly, then stepped inside, assuming it to be safe since Kimmich had just left. He paused just inside the door, looking around. Not seeing who he wanted, he stopped the woman closest to him. «Wo bist…» he paused and mentally changed languages. "Vhere iss Fräulein Oberstleu… Colonel Peterson, Fräulein?" he asked the girl. He did not know this one – she must have been one of the last arrivals, one of the Australians that had come just before they'd gotten their mobilization orders.

"Well, sir, it's technically 'Frau'." The girl actually laughed at him as she said that, not mockingly but as you would with a friend. "I'll go find her for you, shall I?"

"Danke," he replied in bemusement as he watched her head towards the farther end of the building. It wasn't a long wait; five minutes later he studied Colonel Peterson as she approached him, uncertainty on her face.

Sarah stopped in front of… her Major, as Brewster would say; she came to attention and saluted, American-style, which earned her a grin. "What can I do for you, Major Dekker?" she asked once he'd returned her salute.

"Ve are going out für dinner tonight, zome ovf meine Offizieren und I. I vould be honored ivf you und your Ladiess vould choin uss. I mean those that vill be staying heir vith uss, not the rezt." He paused, trying to judge her reaction to this invitation.

She stiffened at first, nearly taking offense, then it seemed that she thought twice about it. "Just the Bondswomen, sir?" she asked, trying to clarify the situation in her mind.

This could make or break their whole relationship, Dekker realized. "I am taking only meine Offizierenouttonight, Fräulein Colonel, not the POWs. Ve vill all be vearing unsere Dress Uniformss; I leavf it to your dizcretion vether you vear the trouserss or the skirtss. Vitchevfer you are mozt comfortable mit going out in. Jimmy iss trying to find out vhere in Dortmund it iss gut to go, right now. Oh, meine Hünde vill komm alzo; somevone may havf to drag uss home…"

Sarah laughed at that picture in her mind. Somehow she'd never thought of Dekker letting his guard down far enough to get drunk. And strangely enough, she felt no concern for the safety or honor of herself or her nurses, should they go out with the Germans as suggested.

Dekker smiled at her, feeling more relaxed. "No matter vhat you chooze, Fräulein Colonel, I vill see that you havf the showerss für the vomen diese afternoon. I know that I miss havfing vone; you can only feel the same. How long vill your ladiess, und the other vomen need?"

She got that 'deer-caught-in-the-headlights' look again, but relaxed sooner this time. "Is two hours possible? I don't suppose that some real shampoo would be available, would it?"

His smile was gentler this time. "I vill see vhat can be gotten, Colonel Peterson. Do you havf any other needs? Ve vill, perhapss, be able to arrange some shopping für you later diese veek, vonce unser Battalion hass settled in; I cannot promise thiss, though.

"But ivf you vill ekscuze me, I vill arrange the showerss. Vill 1500 be gut für your ladiess?"

"1500 will be perfect, Major Dekker," Sarah said, glad now that she hadn't just assumed the worst this time. She saluted him and watched as he gravely returned her salute, gave that odd little half-bow, and left. She, too, had a lot to do now.

"Ladies, your attention please," she called in her 'Parade Ground' voice. "Get your things together – we'll have hot showers today, at 3."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 1750 Dekker came to tap upon the door to the nurses' barracks, holding his breath. He had arranged the showers, and had sent McKeigh into town to find shampoo. The hound had done well; he had returned with five bars of real French soap – lavender scented – and three bottles of shampoo that had cost a small fortune: 200 Reichsmarks. Since Hitler had frowned upon cosmetics for women, such things were still hard to come by, even nearly two years after the mad little corporal had been removed.

It was Dekker, gone into town himself with the ever-present Jimmy, who had purchased the real treasures. He knew the ladies' sizes – this was, after all, on their records – and had intimidated his way to a black market contact. And so, three tubes of lipstick and nine pairs of real silk stockings had been delivered to Colonel Peterson for distribution. Dekker would now be utterly broke until payday, after what dinner would cost for the whole group. He already knew this, having checked prices once Jimmy had returned with the list of available eateries and night-spots in Dortmund. The men would have to pay for their own drinks, and those for their 'companions'.

But now Dekker waited to see if any of the Bondswomen would come out with them willingly. And so, he held his breath as he knocked. He stared in wonder at the sight that greeted him as the door opened. Captain Holbrooke stood there resplendent in her new uniform; her hair was neatly styled under her cap, showing signs of having been curled. A touch of lipstick made her smile that much more appealing.

"We'll be ready in just a few more minutes, sir," she said, although Dekker noted that she did not salute this time. He didn't care; at least some of the ladies were willing to come. If only…

"I havf arranged the use ovf sevferal carss für us tonight; ve vill be outside mit dem, vhen you are ready," he made himself say casually, asking no questions… like 'How many of you are coming'… or 'Is Sarah coming'… It would be better, he knew, to have to deal with that sort of rejection when he had to maintain a mask, such as among his subordinates. If it turned out that he was so rejected; somehow he just couldn't give up hoping.

But before he could reach the waiting cars and the other young officers, the door opened again and out came his nurses. All were dressed in immaculate uniforms, hair all neatly arranged. And yes, those uniforms looked much better with the silk stockings for an evening on the town. The men all piled out of the cars, coming forward with warm smiles of greeting for their evening's companions. All they would get was conversation and dancing, they knew; They would be responsible for protecting their companions from all comers, just as if they were free German girls. This was clearly understood, for Oberleutnant Kimmich had explained this to his 'volunteers' in words of one syllable or less. It didn't matter; they would still be envied by all the other men, for the women looked gorgeous, even in uniforms.

And Dekker found himself approaching Nirvana, for Sarah Peterson smiled at him when he came forward to escort her to the car.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tuesday, March 2nd, 1943

Dortmund, Germany

The morning came much too soon for Dekker's liking. He was not used to drinking very much, for he had never allowed himself to indulge. It hadn't been safe, with Lasch on his case looking for any excuse, so he had very little tolerance for alcohol. He hadn't disgraced himself; if anything, Colonel Peterson had seemed pleased with his 'self-restraint' at dinner the evening before. That had gone exceedingly well. The meal was actually tasty – almost as good as Anna's meals had been. He would miss his little Jüdische cook… perhaps he would send for her, once he knew where they would be going.

Slowly he pulled himself out of bed. Jimmy was already up and dressed for the day – surely it was not that late already? His impending panic receded when his Hund smiled.

«I have a hot Bath drawn for you, mein Major; McKeigh is guarding it to keep Others away. Oskar has your Uniform ready and your Boots polished. You're not late; we started early, since we didn't know what Shape you'd be in this Morning.»

«It was a good Night, nicht wahr?» Dekker sighed in contentment as he gathered his clean clothes and shaving things. «That hot Bath will feel good; I am not used to Dancing anymore. Odd; I can march or fight all Day without being so stiff the next Morning.»

«Maybe a Year ago you could have, Sir,» Brewster disagreed with a chuckle. «This last Year, all you really did for Exercise was Ride… and I remember how sore you were when you started that – although you tried to hide it. I won't tell, though.»

«No, you would not.» Dekker was thoughtful, then laughed. «That is why you see me at my Worst… and why you are still alive to laugh at me on Mornings like this.»

«Wouldn't miss it for the World, Sir,» Jim retorted, wondering at himself. When had he become so comfortable that he could laugh at the notion of being shot? He had, though – and he trusted Dekker now. He was no longer kept out of necessity; he felt that he was as close to being a friend as the German had had in way too long a time. The thought saddened him, that Dekker's life had been so barren due to the enmity of one man. With a sigh Jim began to straighten up the room while Dekker went to enjoy his bath.

Breakfast at the Officers' Mess was uninspired. Dekker and Kimmich exchanged sour looks. «I am spoiled, Sigmund,» Dekker finally admitted with a scowl. «I miss Anna's cooking already, and it has not been even a Week. When did I get so soft?»

«Probably about the same Time that I did, mein Major,» Kimmich answered with a sigh. «This Stuff is just barely more edible than Field Rations… and we've a Week of it to look forward to.»

«No. I would kill the Cook. Old Heinz did a better Job – perhaps I should place him in charge here.»

«That would please him,» Kimmich concurred. «I shall see to it immediately…» he cut off at Dekker's headshake.

«We have that Uniform Issue to see to first,» the Major reminded his Second. «After that we can see to edible Food.»

«Yesterday's Lunch was no better,» Kimmich mused. «I wonder how the Men's Food is?»

«Perhaps we will conduct a 'surprise' Inspection there to find out – at Lunchtime,» Dekker said with a laugh. «I have heard that in some Places the Men get the better Cooks, to prevent Desertion… or to keep them from mutinying. That could be the Case here… What say you, Perelli?»

«Food was decent in the Common Mess yesterday, Herr Major,» the Italian responded without hesitation. «This Stuff looks and smells like Swill.»

«So should I shoot the Cook?» Dekker was half-joking, not sure how this Hound would respond to his warped sense of humor. Jimmy would understand… but it appeared that Perelli did also.

«Sir, you'd be doing the World a Favor,» the Hound answered, then paused. «Maybe you should just make him eat his own Cooking. That might kill him for you, you never know. It'd be Poetic Justice if it did, and still a fitting Punishment if it didn't.»

Both Germans laughed, Kimmich sputtering, for he'd just taken a drink of the horrible excuse for Kaffe they'd been served.

«Enough,» Dekker sobered sufficiently to say. «Perelli, go find old Heinz; tell him that he is to take over the Kitchen here, so that Lunch for my Offizieren will be edible. Have him be sure to go through the Uniform Issue first, so that he will be available for this Duty.»

«Jawohl, Herr Major…» Perelli hesitated, for none of the other Hounds were there this morning. «You want me to do that now?» Oh, man, Brewster would have a fit, him leaving the Major alone this way…

«Go,» Dekker ordered more sharply than he'd intended; he forced himself to relax before continuing, «I will survive without one of you in constant Attendance. You will not be gone that long.» Dekker had managed not to snap at the bondsman because he knew that Perelli was caught between a rock – himself – and a hard place – Brewster. Brewster had left his Superior alone for this meal, but only because he'd taken Perelli with him. Who did the Amerikaner imagine would bother him here, in the heart of Germany? With a sigh and a shake of his head Dekker dispelled his irritation. His Senior Bondsman – his Rottweiler – meant well, and he should be grateful. He would cope.

He pushed back from the table not long after Perelli left. There was no reason to linger here; even what was presented under the misnomer of Kaffe wasn't worth staying for. He looked over to see agreement in Kimmich's eyes; his other junior officers clearly felt the same, for all present rose when he showed signs of leaving. He nodded to them, and gave a grim little smile.

«Go; get your Men,» he told them. «You all know how to find the Warehouse? We will meet there for this new Issue.»

They scattered after a flurry of salutes and a chorus of 'Jawohls', some of the young gentlemen (seven, to be precise) looking rather the worse for wear. Dekker definitely could sympathize, but he refused to let it slow him or affect the performance of his duty. He started for the warehouse with Kimmich, Brewster and McKeigh falling in at his heels as he passed through the door of the Officers' Mess.

«How were your Meals, Hünde?» he asked , his voice low enough that few could hear him except for his men.

«Much better than yours, mein Major, if what we heard was accurate,» McKeigh snickered back, risking a public rebuke. He just couldn't help it, though…

«Unfortunately, you heard correctly,» came the wry response. «Luncheon will be better… and you can suffer through that with me. Behave now; I have no Idea who is to be over-seeing this. I only know that it is Someone from the High Command.»

«Don't worry, Sir; we won't disgrace you,» Brewster didn't hesitate to reassure their Offizier. He got a nod back in acknowledgement, then they walked the rest of the way in an easy silence… although the eyes of the Hounds never stopped scanning their surroundings for danger.

Many of the men had already gathered near the warehouse when Dekker and his party arrived; they were standing in loose formations, talking quietly under the vigilant eyes of their officers. A young Leutnant wearing staffer's flashes waited near the warehouse door, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Poor discipline in that one, Dekker thought in disapproval as he watched him. The young man looked relieved when he saw the Major, although the presence of the Hounds seemed to confuse him. But he had enough self-discipline to come to a very correct Attention and salute these superior Offiziere.

«Sirs!» he snapped out as his salute was returned. «The General is waiting for you inside, Sirs!»

«Very good; you may tell him that we are coming,» Dekker drawled out, widening the young Leutnant's eyes, but he saluted again, turned, and vanished through the door to so notify his superior.

«Where did that young Puppy come from?» Kimmich asked in disbelief.

«Berlin, no doubt,» Dekker responded with a shake of his head. «I saw a lot like him when I was there last Year; there were a lot of good Men there too, though. We'd best go see this 'General' of his; it is always a bad Idea to keep such waiting.»

«Very true. After you, Sir…» Kimmich said, pointedly clearing the way for Dekker. The Major laughed… but it was Brewster and McKeigh who led the way into the shadowy interior.

Tables had been set up, bearing placards as to which company or unit they were meant for. Men manned these tables, and were backed by a veritable mountain of boxes, each labeled with a soldier's name and service number. But Dekker found his attention drawn to a desk set up to one side, also surrounded by boxes and crates, neatly labeled. An older man in the uniform of a Heer General was seated behind the desk; Dekker could sense Kimmich hesitate momentarily when he saw this man. The 'young puppy' waited behind the General's shoulder .

«Herr General: Major Dekker and Staff, reporting as directed, Sir.» Dekker announced as he and his group stopped before the General's desk and offered proper Military Courtesy.

«Major Dekker,» the General acknowledged, then stood. «I am Generalleutnant Heinz Kimmich; I am here as the Representative of the High Command. Be seated, Gentlemen, please.»

Dekker and Kimmich – Sigmund Kimmich – complied; the two Hounds moved to stand behind the Major's chair as the General resumed his seat. All waited to see if they would finally be told what this was all about, their curiosity barely restrained.

As for the General, he studied the men before him most carefully. Dekker he had heard much about, most of it very good. It had always felt wrong, the harsh feelings and words that Generaloberst Lasch had had for him; the man's war record was exemplary. He had continued to live up to his reputation even since the end of the recent hostilities. The two men waiting behind Dekker were more of an enigma. Clearly uniformed as Bondsmen, they were alert – and openly armed. Not men to be trifled with, as he had heard from Warsaw. Somehow their loyalty had been won… and that also said much for the young Major.

And then there was the Oberleutnant. General Kimmich had been very concerned when the younger man had been seconded to Lasch. He hadn't learned until quite recently just what it was he had been ordered to do. Somehow the Oberleutnant had not only survived both that assignment and the demise of his former superior Lasch, but had come out of it in the good graces of his current Commander, and with very good efficiency reports. General Kimmich was quite pleased with the way his nephew had saved himself and his Honor. But… to business.

«Gentlemen: High Command has authorized a Uniform change for several Units, yours among them,» he began with no preamble. «Your Record, and the Conduct of your Men, among other Things, has come to the Attention of the General Staff. I feel that I am honored to oversee this Distribution here Today.» General Kimmich smiled at the puzzlement that his vague explanation caused; it had been intentional. «There is some other Business that needs to be taken care of first, though,» he added, trying to sound somewhat sinister, then he paused for effect.

Dekker didn't know what to make of this round-about speech. It didn't sound as if they were in trouble – just the opposite, in fact. Finally he spoke.

«I'm sorry, Sir, but I fear I do not quite understand you. I was given to understand that I would not receive my final Orders until we reached our current Destination, this being but a Way-stop.» Even here Dekker felt obliged to give out as little concrete information as possible.

«I am not here to give you Operational Orders, Major Dekker, but this.» The General paused, then handed over an envelope that lit the others' eyes in surprise. This did deserve some explanation; and General Kimmich gave it. «I grant you that it is not common Practice to promote Officers during Wartime, but Hostilities are technically over. While Majors have commanded Panzer Regiments before this, it was felt that you would have fewer Problems as an Oberstleutnant. Besides, you've earned this many Times over. Congratulations, Oberstleutnant Dekker, although you will not actually put on the Pip until you board Ship at Le Havre.»

He rose to shake Dekker's hand, then turned to look at his nephew. «I'm sorry, Sigmund. I'm afraid I have no such Accolade for you, but know that it is good to see that you have come out of your unfortunate Association with Lasch in good Standing.»

«He is a very fine Officer, Herr General,» Dekker spoke up in defense of the younger man, even as he wondered what relationship there was here. Kimmich had never spoken of his family, for they were not that familiar with each other – it was not the way things were in the German Military. He knew more about his Hounds' private lives before the war…

«That is good to hear. But on to the rest of our Business.» General Kimmich actually looked pleased now. «It has come to the Attention of the High Command, of which I am a Member, that a number of Waffen-SS Units had survived the Purges and Trials that followed in the Wake of Hitler's Removal. There had been no Evidence of Wrong-doing, so these Units, while stripped of their former Honors, were left in Service under the Command of the Heer. I am sure that you realized that you and yours were being watched by more than Lasch, eh, Dekker?»

«I realized it, Sir; I was more concerned about what Lasch would manufacture than by anything that my Men might do,» Dekker answered, his tone desert-dry.

«You and too many Others, as it turned out.» The General's stolid façade cracked at the memory of just how many promising young officers Lasch had tried to destroy, and how many times he'd succeeded. But he gathered his thoughts once more and continued.

«Due to the Outstanding Records of a Number of these Units since then, it has been decided to return some of the Honors to select Units, based on Worthiness. I will state here that the Sig-Runes will NEVER be allowed back into use. Too many Atrocities are associated with them in the Minds of our People.»

«I agree, Herr General, for what that is worth,» Dekker surprised him by saying. «Neither my Men nor I miss them; they were not what was Important to us.»

«Yes, well…» Kimmich paused to regather his thoughts once more; this interview was not going as he had anticipated. «It has been decided that those Units deemed worthy would be given a Uniform Change reflecting their former Service Origins. Panzer Units will be returned the Black Duty Uniforms, with minor Changes; Officers will be allowed to wear the Steingräu (Pale- or Dove-grey) Tunic and Trousers once more, but with the Heer Insignia. The Enlisted Men will have a darker grey for Dress, but it will not be the Feldgräu of the Heer, nor will any Uniforms save the Panzers' ever be all-black again.»

«And my attached Infanterie, and Panzergrenadiers, Herr General? What of their Duty Uniforms… although they always had worn the Feldgräu.» Dekker paused in his own thoughts, remembering just how hot those all-black uniforms had been, before the change to the pale greys.

«Just so,» General Kimmich concurred. «They keep their Feldgräu… but they may get appropriate Cuff Titles, if their Units have earned them.»

«And we are to get these new Uniforms?» Dekker could barely restrain his excitement, for this was his one regret.

«You are. So is the Unit coming up from Italy, for their Service there has earned this Distinction for them. Do you have a Problem with this, Oberstleutnant?»

«No Sir; why should I?» Dekker was puzzled by that question, and had totally missed the threat in the General's voice as he'd asked it.

Brewster had not; the General noted that the stockier Bondsman bristled visibly at this verbal threat to his Superior. What would the man do in the face of a physical attack? he wondered… then decided that he didn't care to learn first hand. «I have found… but never mind – it does not apply here,» General Kimmich waved the matter off. «I will not be able to come back for their Arrival; here is a Promotion for their Commander also. I expect you to see that he is notified, Oberstleutnant.»

«It will be my Privilege and Pleasure, Herr General,» Dekker declared, and it was obvious that he truly meant it. «Can you tell me which Unit is being sent to me? For some Reason, no one has seen fit to let me know that, or who their Commanding Officer is…» Dekker let his voice trail off at the look of satisfaction on General Kimmich's face.

«You will see them in a Week, Herr Oberstleutnant; they are still in Italy at the moment, but their Personnel are scheduled to arrive here by Monday. You have enough Barracks-space available?»

«Ja, there will be plenty,» Dekker confirmed. «I was given to understand that they are a Light Battalion, so they will have fewer Men. Their Equipment is being routed straight through to Le Havre?»

«It is. You should find all the Armor loaded by the time you get there, or nearly so. England will not be glad to see you come ashore there, I am certain.» General Kimmich laughed at the thought, then sobered with a sigh. «Come; I mean to personally give you and your Second your new Uniforms, since it was by our Orders that they were taken from you. Do you still have your old Unit Pennon? No one could locate it among the confiscated Ones in Berlin. I had meant to return that to you also.» He studied Dekker carefully as he said that, wondering if the young Panzer Commander would admit to hiding it.

There was no hesitation or concern on Dekker's part. «I have it, Sir. I was allowed to keep it, on the Condition that it was never displayed Anywhere. It has remained furled in my Office, or in my Tent since we were… disbanded is not quite correct. Perhaps I should say 'incorporated into the Heer'. We may display it again?»

«You have it with you?» The General didn't know whether to be annoyed or not; his nephew shifted uneasily, but the Bondsmen still stood relaxed, taking their cue from their Superior.

Dekker shrugged. «The only Way I could guarantee that no one displayed it was to keep it with me. None of my Men would ever touch anything of mine… and yes, that includes meine Hünde.»

«Your Hün… your Bondsmen? You call them 'Dogs' to their Faces?!!» General Kimmich was incredulous over the seeming callousness of this. Dekker only laughed, and he could see the attending Bondsmen grinning slightly.

«Herr General, forgive me; you could not possibly understand, because you do not know…» Dekker paused for thought briefly. «Behind me are my Rottweiler, Jimmy, and my Doberman, Kevin. That is, Brewster and McKeigh. There are four Others back at my temporary Quarters: an Alsatian, a Dutch Shepherd, an Irish Wolfhound, and a Great Dane – he is the odd man out, being former Infanterie. The Others were all Kommandotruppen. I hope to add at least an Englisch Bulldog and a Bull Terrier, but I will have to wait and see what they decide – they will form their own Pack if they stay with me. But my Pack takes pride in their Designations – if you have Time later, Sir, I will explain their Idea of a Joke to you.»

«Unfortunately, I fear that I will not,» General Kimmich said, and he meant it. He wondered if Generalleutnant Mannheim knew; he suspected that Mannheim knew much more about these men than he had said. But… «Come, let us get this done. I must be gone by 0930, and it grows late.»

«Jawohl, Herr General.» Dekker and Oberleutnant Kimmich rose to their feet as the General pushed his chair back. He rose and reached for the top box on the stack closest to his desk. He jumped at the sound of a voice behind his shoulder before he could pick it up.

«I'll get that for you, Sir,» the stockier Bondsman said. General Kimmich flinched; he hadn't even heard anyone coming near him. Turning, he saw that both of the 'Hounds' had moved from behind Dekker and now stood beside him.

«That Oberleutnant Kimmich's, Sir?» the second Hund, Kevin asked, although he waited for the General's nod before removing it from the pile.

General Kimmich just looked at Dekker, who shrugged and grinned. «One gets used to them, Herr General. It feels… odd… when at least One is not around, anticipating my Needs.»

«They would drive me crazy," the General grumbled, then pretended not to hear the muted snickers from the Hounds. «Will they let the other Offiziere take their own?»

«Oh yes; I'm surprised, frankly, that Kevin intervened… but then again, I am not. Shall I call in meine Offizieren?»

«Yes – I can at least see those given out myself.» Kimmich's mood had improved again. Now he stepped back and waited as his nephew went out to bring in the rest of the 384th's officers for their uniform issue.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

General Kimmich actually made his 0945 train, but only because Dekker had the train held for him. Despite the new uniforms being sorted by company, they only managed to get through half of the issue before the evening meal. As ordered, old Heinz had been first through in his unit, but Perelli and Davidson had had to go with him and enforce Dekker's order before the old cook was allowed free reign in the Officers' Mess. The meal served that night was a marked improvement, but Dekker still wasn't satisfied.

«You should still have enough Time if you send for her in the Morning, mein Oberstleutnant…» Jimmy grimaced and switched to English. "Jeez, that's awkward. How 'bout we just say 'Colonel', like we do with Colonel Peterson, Sir?" Brewster was lounging on a pallet at the foot of Dekker's bed, watching the German pace irritably. He would sleep in the bed once Dekker had settled for the night, but they had learned caution after Hans' poor reaction in Warsaw; Dekker would be sure always to have a pallet for his Hund in the future, for camouflage.

«That will do, among our own, but not in Public. You will have to keep it straight, Jimmy. You will also have to wait until we sail,» Dekker warned, but he was starting to calm as he considered the original statement. He stopped his pacing to look at his Hund thoughtfully.

«Do you think she will be safe, traveling alone?»

Brewster pursed his lips as he considered this. Finally he sighed and shook his head. «Hard to say, but she'd be a nervous Wreck by the Time she got here, if she had to travel unescorted. D'you think that Klink would bring her? She knows him, after all.»

«And who will watch over things at the Camp while he is gone?» Dekker objected. «I should have brought her with me, but I did not want to subject her to the March. It was too much like some of the Ways they were transported to those Camps in the first Place.»

«I don't know if we'll be here long enough for one of us to go back for her, Sir. We'd probably have to chase you to Le Havre.» Jim was giving serious thought to the problem, but could see no solution.

Dekker, however, looked hopeful. «The Passenger and Supply Trains run more frequently than do the Troop Transports. And she would not have to go to Warsaw to catch the Train, although she would probably go through there en route.

«Jimmy, go get… McKeigh, I think. He is next Senior, and has good German. Have him get a Bag together first, then see if you can find me some Train Schedules. Schnell now, mein Hund – we still have much to do Tomorrow; we must get some Rest Tonight.» Dekker's voice was gentle, totally lacking any sort of irritable bite in his order. Brewster could only nod and rise in obedience to carry out the command.

By the time Kevin arrived at Dekker's room, the German was sitting and filling out a piece of paper. «I will have to find out what other Forms you will need, Kevin. I am sending you back to Stalag 384, to fetch Anna here for me. Be sure that she packs Everything she needs, or wants to bring with her.» He paused and looked up at his Hound to see how he was receiving these orders so far.

Kevin nodded. «I'll see that she gets here safely, Sir," was his only comment on that. «Jim's gone down to the Station to try to get the Train Schedules for you. We should have no Trouble, even if we have to play 'Catch-up' – those Passenger Trains are a lot faster than our Troop Transport was. I imagine that the Tank-carriers are even slower.» He paused, then gave a lop-sided grin. «Who knows, Sir, we may be able to catch a Ride on the last of those if we're Lucky.»

Dekker scowled. «I am authorizing you for Passenger Trains both Ways, Kevin. Those long Strings of Panzers will be a Prime Target. I do not want either of you to ride with Them.»

Kevin straightened to attention at the serious tone of Dekker's voice. «Zu Befehl, mein Oberstleutnant!» he snapped out in response.

«Stand easy, mein Hund,» Dekker sighed. «I did not mean… Be sure you are ready; I will have Travel Papers for you by Morning, sooner if needed.»

«I will be ready, Sir; by your Leave, I'll go finish packing now.»

«Very good, Kevin… have a good Trip; come back to me safe, Ja?»

Kevin didn't even try to suppress his smile at that unexpected comment. «I will, Sir,» he said, then saluted and left to finish his preparations for the trip.

Early that evening the first of the trainloads of Panzers stopped briefly in Dortmund to change out crews, service the engine, and check the rolling-stock – the actual flat- and box-cars. There would be a dozen such trains – and that was only for the 384th's motorized vehicles and ammo. Moving a reinforced battalion was a major undertaking, not to mention the two train-loads of men and their gear. The new battalion had already started moving their equipment towards the coast, or so Dekker had been told; they would 'only' require perhaps eight train-loads, as opposed to the 384th.

Still, Tuesday morning saw the next train-load come through Dortmund, this one carrying trucks, halftracks and armored cars. The 384th's officers spent a good bit of the day in the various fine tailors' shops that Dortmund boasted, for they each had a full issue of new uniforms that needed to be altered for a proper fit. Dekker had seen to this necessary task right after an early breakfast. He hated such things, viewing them as wasted time, but he knew that it had to be done. Sooner was better than later, for later he would have his hands full with organizational details. There was already more than enough to do now, with the rest of his current men getting their new uniforms issued.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Slowly the days crawled by, filled with paperwork and trivial details. They had gone out once more, on Friday evening, Kimmich's treat, but it had only been Dekker, Kimmich, Peterson and Holbrooke this time; the Hounds had been left behind despite Jimmy's protests. As it turned out, this was just as well, for Dekker had the dubious privilege of meeting the Kommandant of the POW camp situated just outside of Dortmund.

Oberst Malberger was an aristocrat of the old school and looked down his nose at most of this day's young officers. He felt that they were gutter trash, most of them unfit to keep company with. This was especially so of the scum that had been in the SS and SA. How he had survived the reign of the Gestapo mystified most who knew him. Perhaps, they said, that was why he'd been made Kommandant of a POW camp. Stalag VI-D was run as his personal fiefdom; the Dortmund Garrison commander had little good to say about this stiff-necked old Prussian.

Dekker could just imagine how this man would have reacted to his armed Hünde, considering the way he'd sneered at the two Bondswomen with them that night. The ladies had pretended not to notice, their feelings salved by the obvious irritation of their escorts. Dekker could only wish for the opportunity to put the man in his place someday, unlikely as that was. But that evening passed, as did the weekend, uneventfully. At last it was Monday once more, with the first of two trainloads of armor and vehicles to come through in the early afternoon. These last two trains had been delayed due to a trestle bridge washing out, taking a section of track with it; this had finally been repaired, although it had put them three days behind schedule.

The new battalion's men were due in sometime this afternoon also. They had been routed up through Berlin, as the 384th had been. Dekker wondered why they hadn't all gotten their uniform issues there, but then it hit him. The old SS uniforms were in disrepute in Germany, but were greatly feared in the 'annexed' countries. So, obviously, that was where they were being sent. One more small piece of the puzzle fitting into place.

Just after lunch the final trainload of Dekker's Panthers pulled into Dortmund's freight-yard. He hadn't really considered it before this, but he had an amazing amount of fire-power under his control. And it would close to double soon. So much for Lasch keeping his career at a standstill. Dekker grinned at the thought, his spirits higher now than they had been all day. This mood lasted until an Obergefreiter came running to his rooms, out of breath from his haste.

«Herr Major!» he gasped, greatly upset (Only the Hounds called Dekker 'Oberstleutnant', and that only in private, since the promotion would not officially take effect until they sailed for England.) «Oberleutnant Kimmich asked would you come quickly: there is Trouble in the Train-yards!»

The Train-yards? Dekker thought, puzzled… then he realized that some of his Panthers would likely still be there. The trains had all stopped at Dortmund, to allow the engines to be serviced, and the crews to be fed and rest a bit… What had happened to his Panzers?!! He wasted no time asking questions -- these would only be answered at the train itself – and he still had one more trainload of equipment to come through tonight! He headed out of his quarters, still buttoning up his long leather coat.

The train-yard was crawling with guards – an unusual sight. Prior to this, yes, there were guards walking rounds, but… Now most of the activity was centered around the long row of cars bearing his Panthers. From the midsection of the train Dekker could hear Kimmich doing a fair imitation of him screaming in outrage. Apparently Jimmy had thought the same, for he caught a fleeting grin on the Hund's face, although this quickly vanished.

«What has happened here?!» the Panzer commander demanded as he stalked up to the center of this group, and Kimmich.

«Herr… Major,» Kimmich said, just catching himself before using the not-yet-official higher rank. «The Guards noticed three Men hanging around the Freight-yards. At first they thought nothing of this, for Men frequently do so, hoping to obtain Day-labor unloading Cargo. They became suspicious, however, when they realized that none of these Idlers had gone anywhere near the Freight Office, which is where they might be given Work. Then the Feldwebel, there, noticed them around the Flatcars with our Panthers. Two tried to run when they saw the Guards coming; they were shot. The Survivor is over there.» Kimmich indicated a small knot of men off to one side.

Dekker waved Perelli in that direction without a word; the Hound came to heel-clicking attention and went. The Major nodded to his Second to continue, ignoring the scream that came from that group a few minutes later.

«The last Man,» Kimmich went on with his report, «Bent near the Car's Wheels, straightened, and looked about to run. When he saw that he couldn't make it, he waited until the Guards got closer, then threw his Satchel at them. Fortunately it landed wrong, and did not explode as he'd hoped it would. The Guards found several small Vials of some sort of Nitro mixture inside the Bag.

«One of the Rail-crew checked the Wheels where this last Man had been crouched and found a small Vial pushed down into the Grease Rags around the Axle. One good Bump would have smashed the Vial and probably exploded its Contents, derailing that Car and a good portion of the Train after it. They are checking all the Cars now, but it will take Time. This Train will be even further behind Schedule.»

«Better that they take the Time to search properly than have the whole Train destroyed. It could take out a Tunnel, or a Bridge, and that would cause far more Delays for Everyone,» Dekker growled, his teeth trying to clench in anger. «Who are they, and who do they represent?»

«Herr Major, the Papers on the Dead One say that he was a Latvian Forced-Laborer. We have not checked the other two yet.» A young Leutnant wearing a Military Policeman's Brassard stood at rigid attention as he offered that information. Dekker's eyebrows rose.

«Latvian? So, these could be Communist Third-columnists. Be sure you get all their Contacts, Leutnant, before they die. They could have cost me this Load of Panzers… and this one is Mine!» Dekker indicated the Panther that rested on the nearby flatcar, festooned with the extra antennae of a Panzerbefehlswagen Panther SdKfz.268 (command/communications tank).

A second man, this one in rail-workers' coveralls, came over to this officer who seemed to be in charge. «Sir,» he began in poor, French-accented German. «We have found Vials in the Trucks of this Car, and in a second further down the Train. I do not believe that we can get them out without causing them to explode. Can we off-load the Tanks, Herr Major?»

Other men standing nearby expected this hot-tempered Panzer Offizier to explode himself at that, but Dekker just sighed. «We can, but it will be difficult. Where is the second sabotaged Car?»

«It is eight Cars towards the Rear, Herr Major…» the man began, stopping at Dekker's scowl.

«I am Major Dekker,» he interjected, although it wasn't strictly necessary under the circumstances. «You have a Stockpile of Rail Ties? Gut. Have them brought – we will need to build a Ramp, to drive the Tank down. Have someone… what – unhitch? Disconnect? Whatever you call it – the Car in front of this one, and move the Engine forward with the other Cars. We will build the Ramp and unload the Tank, then pull this Car out of the Way – to the Side, off the Tracks.»

"Oui… uh…"

{Never mind,} Dekker said, switching smoothly to French that was as rough as the other's German. {When that is done, take down the ramp, reconnect the front half to the rear of the train, and do the same thing for the second compromised car. You are sure that there are but two so rigged?}

{Oui, Major,} the old man said with a quick nod. It would be a beastly job, but it could be done… perhaps. {How will we remove the flatcar? It will likely explode…}

{The tank can pull it over, and off the tracks,}Dekker replied offhandedly. {There are no more tracks to the far side of this train; it will not destroy anything important if it blows. It will definitely not hurt the tank. Then get this train rejoined, and get it out of here. Find me two more flatcars for these two Panthers; they can go with my train when we pull out of here tomorrow night.}

It took three hours, but at last it was done and that train gone on. New cars wouldn't arrive until midafternoon the following day, but they could still meet their schedule. The saboteurs, it turned out, were not Latvians, but KGB agents-provocateur, hitting what they'd thought to be an opportunistic target. They would hit no others, once they'd been bled of all the information they might have. The Gestapo did still exist, if in a watered-down, carefully monitored form; those agents wouldn't stand a chance.

There being nothing else he could do there now, Dekker left the freight-yard trailed by his Hounds. There would be more paperwork to do now, to document this little debacle. At least he hadn't lost a single Panzer; a flatcar or two was nothing, compared to that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(1) The Kettenkrad (SdKfz 2, or Kleines Kettenkraftrad HK 101) started its life as a light gun tractor for airborne troops, being small enough to fit inside the hold of the Ju 52. The concept was developed in 1939, with the first Kettenkrads entering service in June of 1941. Most Kettenkrads saw service on the Eastern Front, where they were used to lay communication cables, pull heavy loads, and carry soldiers through the deep Russian mud. It was also used in the North African theater and in Europe. The Kettenkrad came with a special trailer (.1) that could be attached to it to improve its cargo capacity. Late in the war, Kettenkrads were used as runway tugs for aircraft in order to conserve aviation fuel. From Wikipedia and various Kettenkrad websites. (A/N: They look like a cross between a modern snowmobile and a motorcycle, and I would guess are probably the snowmobile's forerunner.)