A Letter from Frank by Stephen J. Colombo

Author:Stephen J. Colombo [Colombo, Stephen J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, Military, Canada, General, Europe, Germany
ISBN: 9781554889686
Google: VNwvmAEACAAJ
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2011-09-20T04:56:26+00:00

Member of the German army in winter camouflage clothes and skis.

(Bundesarchiv, Bild 146-1969-140-57, photographer: Blaurock)

For the most part they travelled on trails made by previous patrols. The parallel tracks looked like a narrow railway line in the otherwise untouched snow, packed down by dozens of previous skiers. Their route wound through patches of trees and across stretches of open ground. The line of soldiers in Frank’s patrol moved like an inchworm, backing up at the bottom of hills as each man took a run up it, spreading out when they went downhill, tucked down to coast as far as possible before resuming the steady push-slide, push-slide. Even at -20 degrees Celsius, the men produced enough heat that they would be sweating freely. The strenuous exercise in the Arctic cold created a kind of euphoria, making Frank feel incredibly alive.

Against the snowy background, his patrol was practically invisible in its white camouflage suits. Clearly visible, though, were the twin tracks they followed. The patrol followed the ski trail into another of the many wooded areas when Frank suddenly heard an explosion. He stood looking into the shimmering cold, seeing nothing unusual. Only then did he notice spots on the snow, spots of the most brilliant red he had ever seen. On the crystalline white surface, the red looked as vivid as on an artist’s canvas. Then to his surprise, he saw more spots appearing, and only then did he realize it was blood, and that it was his, gushing from the right side of his chest and neck.

Frank collapsed on the snow, blood streaming from his wounds. He lay unable to move, but aware of everything happening around him. He heard more explosions nearby. He recognized the sound of German hand grenades and reasoned the other explosions must be Soviet grenades. Gunfire was exchanged, the rapid fire of submachine guns and the heavier, slower sound of rifles. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the firing ended. For a moment everything was absolutely quiet.

Others in Frank’s patrol stayed crouching among the bushes near the trail, waiting to see if their attackers still remained hidden among the trees. Finally they rose. The Feldwebel[1] sent several men to find the attackers, but they soon returned. There was no sign of the Soviet troops who had ambushed them, save for their ski trails. It was clear they had found the ski trail used by the Germans, perhaps even watched on previous days to see if it was used regularly or at a certain time of day. The ski tracks provided a perfect opportunity to plan an ambush. The Soviet troops had lain in wait as Frank’s patrol approached, then thrown their hand grenades and opened fire before quickly withdrawing.

Frank lay alone in the snow, his skis still on his boots and the leather loops of his ski poles around his wrists. His side and arm ached and he felt a sharp pain in his neck. A face appeared above him, saying something, then another face, then a third.

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