Chapter 1 part 2- New arrivals

A Chapter by calgar

The next day, as the sun slowly rose over the huge expanse of the blossoming steppe, the convoy slowly began to make it's final journey into the camp. The men inside the worn trucks looked almost as exhausted by the long, and very much shock filled journey as the vehicles in which they finished it. The completion of the journey was no laughable feat, either. These men, none of them older than 22, had been transported hundreds of miles through territory where every inhabitant loathed even the mention of them, and where unshackled, even briefly, from the brutalising and barbaric restraints of the Ostministerium would reek their horrific revenge on any and all who crossed them for every imaginable offence. And it was not just the inhabitants who had suffered. Those bright young faces who had so vibrantly been swept into the Wehrmacht were now being transported across territory that evoked startling similarities to the wars waged by Atilla and his hordes.

Everywhere, only destruction and anarchy flourished. Villages that had once been centres of growth, released from the restraints of the Tsarist system, had been ground into a level of desperation and abject misery that was unthinkable. Whole towns had been exterminated, their inhabitants seen as little more than vermin by the roving death squads of Himmler's thugs. They left the villages behind them, chilling ghost towns inhabited only by the insane, lucky to be alive, and by the inanimate possessions of the murdered. Fields lay fallow, the soil only sowed with the blood of it's past cultivators. Groups of Partisans roamed around the desolate environment, pursuing their own punitive 'crusade' for the motherland. The constituent parts of these groups varied enormously, from soldiers bypassed by the greatest war machine Man had ever created to bands of Jews and Ukrainians simply fighting a desperate battle for survival against the uncaring wheels of Nazi administration.

The young and pink faces that made the journey to the front with a background this apocalyptic scant made it unchanged. Many had been brought up to the rhetoric that had fuelled their nation to such a bloody path, but now that they had witnessed the true meaning behind the words, they were revolted and catapulted away from it. Others, those who were far more implicated and fervent believers of National Socialism, revelled in the carnage. Many, almost all, had heard the rumours of the war in the East, but few if any had truly believed the extent to which these rumours had a basis in the truth. For many, it was far more than they could ever had imagined.

But now they were here, the dangers seemed to temporarily subside. They had survived the journey physically unscathed, though for some the same could not be said about their mentality and emotional stability. They were once again in a position of strength, not one where every stop could well be their last. Whilst they had arrived at a place that may well be their final resting place, few if any wished to even think about the potential consequences of their occupation. Now they were here, and they had final joined their new home. Their regiment.

As the long lines of replacements slowly formed up, many of the regiment's members came over to 'inspect' them. The regiment almost all came from two regions, and many of the arrivals soon found a familiar face in the crowd. Those who did find a familiar face, however, were almost always met by large, sad eyes. Some of the men looking upon the line of replacements had seen the act carried out an uncountable number of times, and they knew the fate many of these young and fresh faces would face. Others, less knowledgeable than others, quickly ran over to those they recognised and held them tight, their reunion made no less joyful by the circumstances in which they found themselves. The few who had no connections with the crowd; namely those who were either too old or had simply lost all those they had to the unrelenting gauntlet of war; either strolled away with pained features or followed comrades greeting the arrivals.

But slowly, the commotion died down. Men returned to their duties whilst the arrivals were slowly processed into units by the never stopping cogs of administration, and it was thanks to this uncaring administration that Rudi and Klemens was sent to the company. Both had excelled in training, and both were exalted by their drill instructors as perfect soldiers. They took orders obediently, immediately and unquestioningly. They could shoot, they could use their bayonet as efficiently as a ganger brought up in the underbelly of an industrial complex. They were strong, they had memorised whole segments of Mein Kampf and could pass for Gauliters with the amount of knowledge they possessed on the matter of Nazi rhetoric. But they were also young and naive, filled with all the lies and propaganda that any regime fills it's youth with. They came from a family with a long military tradition, exclusively in the lower ranks.

The two brothers cautiously approached their new home, eyeing the men who would soon become their comrades. They had both been instilled with the values of comradeship at home and by the party, and both were made apprehensive as to the chances of being immediately accepted by their new comrades by their appearance. All looked as if they had been at the front for an indefinite time, and they almost fitted the exact description their father had given them about the old hands of the Imperial Army in Flanders. They were untidy and unkempt, their equipment dirty and worn. They were lounged around in the blazing sun, apparently without a care in the world. The drill instructors had warned Rudi and Klemens about soldiers like this, but Rudi had always though that it had been exaggerated. Surely the Aryan race would produce the best soldiers? Maybe not.

The brothers were still silent as one of the group, the Sergeant by the look of his rank insignia on his sleeve, approached them as the others looked on. Rudi almost immediately noticed how old he looked. He was of an average, thin build and his light brown hair flopped gently under his cap that was lazily perched on his head, and his arm seemed to be causing him a good deal of pain as he struggled to move it. His green eyes scanned the pair depressively, as if hiding some terrifying truth that only he knew. They soon fluttered as if reliving distant experiences, his features cavorting into a mixture of great pain and great hope. Klemens quickly nudged Rudi, who was too lost in examining the Sergeant to remember, and in perfect synchronisation they stood to attention, clicking their heels together in the process. The man just looked at them even sadder than before, and shook his head in abject dismay.

He motioned them to stand at ease before quickly and in an almost father like tone beginning to speak, “Welcome to your new home, boys. I'm Hans, but if there's an officer about call me Feldwebel Meyer. I've been here since all this big pile of crap kicked off, I was in the trenches with your Dads before that, and all the boys here are veterans, so don't you worry about a thing. We'll look after you. Come over and meet the rest of the lads.”

Rudi almost instantly felt relieved. Feldwebel Meyer... no Hans, seemed friendly enough. He looked over at Klemens, who seemed to be just as relieved as him. He gave him a quick, reassuring nudge before quickly running to catch up to Hans who was blazing his way back towards the rest of the section. They now seemed to notice the new pair, and their eyes were soon engaged in the same scrutiny that their sergeant had engaged in. In what felt like no time at all the pair had reached the rest of the section, and were rooted to the spot like oak trees whilst the others analysed every minuscule detail they possessed.

Hans broke the awkward silence quickly, “What's your names boys?”

“Klemens, sir, Klemens Bauer.”

“Rudi Bauer, sir!”

Hans looked at the pair for a few seconds, once more engaging in a scientific analysis of them, before quickly speaking again. “Brothers?” The two quickly nodded their assent. “And how old, Klemens, are you?”

“19, Feldwebel!” he chanted back enthusiastically.

“And yourself, Rudi? How old are you?”

“19, Feldwebel!” Hans looked at him disparagingly, but also with a mischievous look that Rudi interpreted as a distant memory.

Hans stared at Rudi for a moment, the section behind him muttering to one another quietly. “Lets try that again” Hans began, “How old are you, Rudi?”

“16, sir” Rudi replied, far more reserved.

Hans looked at him fondly, “And why exactly, my young Rudi, did you join up?”

Rudi's face burst into a gleeful smirk that was only compressed after several forceful seconds, as if he knew the formulaic answer to the question he had just been asked and had memorised it off by heart a hundred times. “To serve the Fuhrer and Fatherland, Feldwebel”.

Hans looked at Rudi for several seconds, his face a picture of abject denial. Then, slowly, he turned around to face the rest of the section, who were staring right back at him. “You hear that boys? Thats what the b******s fill the young 'uns with now. Die for your fuhrer, die for your Aryan brothers, die for our gain. B******s.”

He once more turned to the pair, and now slowly he walked towards to the two. Rudi noted that despite the man's obvious fatigue and dismay, he had otherwise created an aurora of surety but also of realism. Slowly, he walked in front of the two, analysing them yet another time. The two brothers still stood at attention as rigidly as they had before, not daring to move. Then he slowly began to speak.

“I understand that the pair of you may have been given slightly... different views on war compared to us. I want you, I am ordering you, to forget those views. Here, nothing is normal. You cannot dwell on what you see, what you hear, what you do. Here, if you think about the things you will be ordered to do you will go insane. I understand that the two of you may have been brought up to believe we are superior- forget that crap. Here, all you need is one stray unlucky bullet and your dead. Understood? Hans didn't wait for the pair's reply before quickly speaking once more.

“You'll need to know the boys” he began, quickly turning to reveal the rest of the section, who were all looking at the pair with fascination.

“This is Arnulf” he said, pointing at a very imposing and dark figure.

“And that's Kurt, the small one behind him”. Kurt nodded his welcome very unsteadily, whilst Arnulf stood there, his deep hazels eyes scanning the Bauers. A man who made even Arnulf (who towered over the other members of the section that Rudi could see) walked forward childishly.

“I'm Marco!” he declared, like a child on their first day of school. Rudi secretly found this funny, was he trying to be a joker or was he seriously like this? (Not that he would say this to Marco, as he towered above him and looked as though he could rip his head off with ease).

Hans quickly continued, as if covering over Marco's immaturity. “And over there is Luthias, Adalrik, Peppi and Jurgen.” He turned to the Bauers once more, “So there you have it, Boys, your new home. We're gonna check your shooting abilities soon, so go dump your kit and see me in half an hour. Got it?”

The pair chanted their acknowledgement of the order, and Hans walked away, slowly shaking his head. Rudi and Klemens did not notice this, though, as they were too busy speaking to one another in hushed tones as soon as they reached their tent. Klemens was seething with anger at Rudi, and he was hardly able to keep in his pent up rage until they reached privacy to release it.

“You idiot, why the hell did you tell him your 16?!? Do you want to go to some supply unit and mean I can't bloody well look out for you?”

Rudi replied smugly, “Am I just to lie to the Sergeant, because I’m sure Father would have something to say about that”

“I never said that you arse, what I’m saying is don't attract attention to yourself, and no bloody heroics, just like the sergeant and Father said, got it?” Klemens' rage had not been diminished by Rudi's reply, and his eyes glowed with an understanding that Rudi could not be expected to have any minuscule idea about. Rudi, temporarily silenced by his brother's fierce onslaught, could only meekly nod.

The pair were soon called to the makeshift firing range that was a typical example of the dehumanising nature of the war that raged across the seven continents. The target was itself simple, a straw dummy, but what the Soldaten had placed in it was what was truly disturbing. The head had a commissar’s cap, the chest a Hammer and Sickle and the crotch a unit badge. All were covered in blood. Every single one of the dozens of targets (Rudi counted roughly over a hundred) had the exact same items attached onto them. Seeing their horror, and probably misunderstanding it, Hans quickly acted to somehow relieve them.

He put a gentle, fatherly hand on their shoulder as he spoke softly. “We're not animals here, boys, it's to stimulate combat. All the items here, they're from men who did actually do something wrong. You know, partisans, things like that. We ain't the SS, I can assure you of that.” One of the other members of the section, a diminutive type (Rudi thought it was Kurt, but didn't have the courage to voice this in case he looked like an idiot), stood up, projecting his voice at the mention of the inner circle of National Socialism.

“Damn right we ain't like those b******s, we have some dignity. I could bloody-”

Hans interrupted swiftly and strongly, his voice changing seamlessly to an authoritarian and overwhelming tone,“That’s enough, Kurt.”

Somehow trying to ignore the situation that seemed set to explode due to Kurt's rising frustration, which Rudi noticed was also accompanied by a look of nostalgia and almost unbearable guilt, Klemens stepped up to the firing range marker. Hans and Kurt were temporarily, and the truce seemed very much temporary, stopped from arguing as the rest of the section all stepped back. The slowly and painstakingly, as he had done a hundred times before in the Reich, Klemens pulled back the firing bolt on his rifle. It made a very definitive, screeching sound as he pushed it back into place and dropped to one knee even as he brought his weapon up in one, sleek motion. Then, he gently squeezed the trigger and repeated the same, well rehearsed action all over again.

The whole section apart from Rudi, who just smiled at what he knew was just another repeat of a memorised performance, were utterly shocked. Hans walked up to the target slowly, his eyes scanning it quickly but in great detail, and then he slowly turned to face the section.

The rifle barked violently as it rocketed back into Klemens' shoulder, but to the surprise of many members of the section Klemens was able to readjust quickly and put himself back into the correct firing position. Rising calmly, he repositioned himself into a standing stance and proceeded to eject the empty bullet casing. Even as it fell to the ground, it's smooth bronze surface gleaming from the intense spring sun, Klemens fired yet again, before slowly turning around and standing at attention.

The whole section apart from Rudi, who just smiled at what he knew was just another repeat of a memorised performance. Hans walked up to the target slowly, his eyes scanning it quickly but in great detail, and then he slowly turned to face the section.

“You scored 17 points, Klemens, out of a possible 20. I must say... it's pretty impressive. Rudi, it's your go.” He motioned Rudi to the firing position whilst he walked back slowly, muttering away to himself. The rest of the section stood motionless, caught up in the atmosphere that Klemens' outstanding performance had created. Rudi himself seemed like an island of calm in the sea of excitement.

Like his brother had done before him, and his father before that, Rudi took up his firing position, resting his rifle in almost exactly the same way as Klemens had done. Then slowly, he squinted down the iron sights, and gently pulled the trigger. Whilst he had been able to mimic his brother's actions up to this point, his far less developed adolescent body was far less capable of withstanding the massive recoil his weapon, and his whole upper body moved visibly backwards (much to Rudi's great dissatisfaction). He stood up slowly, and about turned to face Hans, as he had done on the training grounds of the Reich so many times before. Hans looked very much impressed, if a little worried about how mechanical the teen was.

Kurt, showing his impressed nature far more than the rest of the section, could not stop himself from shouting out to Rudi. “10 Reichsmarks if you hit the Hammer, Rudi!”

The rest of the section looked on at Rudi expectantly, but also with some apprehension about the full ability that Rudi possessed (though none of them truly believed that Rudi was anything but exceptional in his abilities), and Rudi just grinned back full of belief in himself.

Rudi turned quickly, but also full of surety that would be hard to find in many veterans. He dropped once more to one knee and brought up rifle up, a single isolated bead of cold sweat slowly wound its way down his arm. His hands shook slowly with adrenaline brought on by the heat of the moment; a culmination of the stressful journey he and his brother had undertook to reach this point, as well as the coming of age he now saw within his grasp. His weapon shook gently, a minor hindrance to a marksman who had so much experience in the art of shooting. Articulately he lined up his weapon, his brain calculating all his moves as he painstakingly prepared himself. Then, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. An instant later, a metal clang resounded through the air.

Kurt, probably just as shocked as the rest of his comrades, somewhat shakeably ran over to the target, that was only just readjusting itself from the full shock and power that the rifle had unleashed upon it. His voice was very still for a moment as he examined the target, and then slowly he turned to face the squad.

His voice was still breaking as spoke, “You got the hammer Rudi, the moneys yours”, and then slowly he walked back, his eyes fixated on him. The rest of the section broke out into an intermittent murmur, whilst Rudi stood there in absolute shock (though his facial expression showed a hint of satisfaction and definitely a feeling of relief). Klemens' on the other hand, just stood there, as if he was revelling in the culmination of years of hard work.

Hans was the first to break the murmuring, his voice piercing the surroundings, gaining not only the attention of his men but also that of several onlookers from the rest of the company who had also witnessed the somewhat ground breaking event. He patted Rudi and Klemens, now standing beside one another as if for mutual support, gently on the back whilst laughing inwardly.

“See lads” he began, motioning to the rest of the section, “these two are far better than any of you ever could of expected, as some found out to your cost”, he continued with a grin and a wink that caused Kurt to jokily blush and play the part of fool. He looked back at the Bauers, resignation and remembrance streaked ever so slightly in his eyes, before continuing.

“And I’m sure these two young 'uns have a lot more surprises in store for us. But that's enough for today. Tomorrow we're going on patrol again, so I want you all ready for tomorrow. Kit ready, eaten plenty and well rested. G'night, lads.”

The slowly, the section all retired back to their tents as the sun slowly set upon the vast expanse of the steppe, with only the sound of nature breaking the overwhelming peace that descended on the blood drenched landscape. The dying rays of the sun were rapidly disappearing as Hans and Kurt stood outside the Bauer's tent for several seconds, just staring at the newcomers quarters. Both looked at one another with a painful visage before retiring back to their own living spaces almost as dejected and downtrodden as they had done the night before when they had laid another of their brothers to rest.

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The first shell broke the silence effortlessly as it hurtled through the clear and peaceful sky. Behind it came even more of it's kind at this moment silent as they hunted their prey. Dozens upon dozens of them filled the empty sky, and they approached their target with all the grace and finesse of a natural predator. Beneath them, the country for which they fight (and also the country for which they will destroy so much) slumbers, resting from yet another day of apocalyptic struggle. Just beneath the shells, a trio of ravens swoop through the midnight sky, slowly turning eastward. As they pass above the foreboding forests, the nervous and jittery eyes of fear-filled men stare upwards, waiting for the signal that will send them once more into the maelstrom against the exact opposite of the regime for which so many have died.

Slowly the first shell angles downwards on it's destruction course, and soon they begin to plummet downwards. They are all on a collision course with the sacred soil of the Motherland, who's sanctity has been violated by the grotesque actions of an equally brutal ruler. The multitudes of death doers, plummeting from the sky like angels bent on vindication, emit a terrifying scream as they pierce the ever diminishing expanse between them and the invader. Then the first shell hits the ground, beside a APC, obliterating it in a fiery conflagration. The rest of it's ilk follows on behind it, all bent on raining destruction and pain upon their hated adversary.

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The first explosion tore Rudi from his previously undisturbed slumber, the whole violent nature of the noise and shock tremors throwing him off his bunk. Almost instantly he was awake, his face a picture of abject terror. Beside him, Klemens was almost in as much shock as his brother, but was somehow able to quickly compose himself whilst his brother remained in complete and utter shock, standing as still and upright as a marble statue, without all of its more advantageous properties.

Rudi was in complete confusion as to what was happening. Where they under attack? Surely not, the Slavic scum wouldn't dare attack them! Father had been right, the sudden rush of combat was certainly..... intoxicating. He had finally reached his rifle and loaded it, the sound of the firing pin sliding back a common and relaxing sound to the unfamiliar and terrifying din of modern warfare. The ringing in his ears carried on regardless, however, and he stumbled around his unfamiliar surroundings, his eyes glazed.

Another massive explosion almost threw Rudi off his feet. Suddenly, the tent was illuminated by the warm orange glow of fire, finally allowing Klemens to strap his stalhelm firmly onto his vulnerable cranium, which would provide at least psychological strength and protection against any piece of shrapnel larger than a pencil.

Klemens was shouting at Rudi, who only realised and understood what he was saying when Klemens forced a helmet not too gently down onto his little brother's head, before motioning him to follow as he strode out into the maelstrom. Rudi, still slightly dazed but otherwise in a far better condition than he had been only seconds previously, shuffled behind him, breathing heavily and gripping his weapon even tighter.

Hans and the rest of the section were already running towards the pair when the shelling stopped, and they seemed astonished that the two were still not strewn in little pieces all over the ground. All were fully geared up and looked impressive in their battle dress, coal scuttle helmets and fully primed weapons. All were focused on the distant horizon, as of yet untouched by the screaming balls of death falling from every imaginable part of the sky, and Kurt motioned to the Bauers to drop in behind the far more experienced men before moving back into position. The two newcomers to this dangerous canvas of war, were death filled every scene and unimaginable and horrifying experiences were carved into psyche of each actor.

The section was now breaking into a full sprint, and Rudi was shocked to see just how fast his comrades moved. They were carrying, what, seventy pounds of equipment? He could barely keep up, and he found himself cursing his adolescent physique as he slowly dropped behind. The shelling had finally stopped, though his infernal and unceasing shaking had eased only slightly. His grip on the Kar 98K had remained just as tight as those first nerve racking minutes, and the ringing in his ears was finally leaving, but he remained just as jumpy.

He half shouted half screamed when he saw the man, his intestines strewn all over him. His blood, good pure aryan blood, was spurting all over the ground around him in an unending flood. Rudi had known well how.... brutal warfare was, but this? This was certainly worse than what they had been told about at basic. The man was screaming, though most of it was incoherent, was horrifying and it shook Rudi to the core. He almost stopped, his curiosity almost costing him his stomach contents, before one of the section (Rudi thought it was that tall and very much un-aryan one, maybe it was Marco?) gently nudged him onwards. How could Rudi forget him? Of course it was Marco! Look at how oversized and oxen-like he was!

The section had by now, like so many others in the camp that had come streaming out of their small tents in a scene resembling that if a biblical exodus, were now approaching the defence line. It had been relatively untouched by the short whirlwind barrage, and the few minor damages to it's secure structure had been rapidly shored up with a whole host of improvised materials. It snacked it's way around the perimeter, and was rapidly being filled by a swelling tide of soldiers all seeking some worthwhile protection.

Rudi and Klemens had scarcely enough time to drop down into the superficial slit ‘trench’ behind the rest of the squad seconds before the bombardment opened up again. Rudi, somewhat regrettably, noticed had at least one corpse sprawled in front of it, his lifeblood trickling into the Ukrainian soil from a small wound in his leg and side. Rudi had little time to dwell on what his eventual fate could be before the first shells began raining from the sky once more.

The two brothers immediately threw themselves down into the broken lining of the trench with remarkable voracity, whilst the other members of the section instinctively ducked slightly (all the while angling their heads in the direction of their new comrades worriedly). The entire night sky with illuminated with the glow of the two burning APC’s, which no one had the willingness nor the capacity to put out. Along the whole front of the somewhat unsteady and unprepared German line, men panted anxiously, eyeing their comrades with affection before busying themselves preparing their weapons.

Then suddenly, the whole terrifying noise of horrifically effective bombardment ceased instantly. An eerie silence soon filled the vacuum left by the new-found peace, broken only by the piercing screams of wounded men and the crackling of the flames. Several officers began shouting orders as the entire line breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed as If it was just a routine strike aimed at unnerving the unit. Many of the old hands found this humorous, as many remembered that they had “Taught the b******s most of the tricks of the game”.

Slowly, a few men hesitantly hoisted themselves out of the line and over the dimly illuminated parapet and began slowly advancing into the threatening darkness. They were watched by their comrades with a motherly worry, but one that was almost certain of a tragic outcome. Rudi and Klemens, meanwhile, had quickly and frantically checked one another before staring terrified into the distance. Everywhere uncertainty reigned supreme. Adarik, Pepi and Jurgens all sat preparing a MG42, it's bipod stand refusing to budge whilst Kurt and Marco checked one another’s equipment. All murmured hesitantly, as if not to attract attention to themselves. The only exception was Hans, who sat staring over the parapet into the hostile darkness with trepidation. Rudi began to shuffle as best he could without exposing himself over to the Feldwebel, all the while keeping an eye on Klemens. Hans turned around, somewhat resigned, when he saw Rudi staring expectantly at him.

“Feldwebel, what do we do?” Rudi questioned, his inexperience getting the better of him.

“We just sit and wait, Rudi, it'll all be over soon.” Hans was trying to look as positive and confident as possible, but it all amounted to nought as he still look as if he had seen a ghost.

Rudi opened his mouth to speak, but any sound his larnyx emitted was quickly drowned out by the sound of several flares exploding over the camp, illuminating it in blood red light. Then four rifle shots were fired in rapid succession and all those men who had ventured beyond the parapet were instantly cut down. Then, the crescendo to the terrifying ordeal began. A deafening cry of “Uraa” was heard, and seconds later the shells once more began falling.

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