Dieppe, France
August 20, 1942
Heinrick gazed out the left rear window as
the bomber taxied down the grass airfield. The lush, green fields
of Northern France were a welcome change of scenery from the
scorching sandstorms of North Africa. He had been in Libya so long
it seemed he had forgotten what vegetation looked like.
But he wasn’t complaining. The advantages of serving with one of the world’s greatest military commanders had outweighed the inconvenience of living with camels and nomads. Just last week, General Rommel had promoted him from captain to major, meaning more pay, more prestige, and more power.
He had been so preoccupied with his military duties that he had not written Ingrid with news of the promotion. She would get the news when the increased paycheck arrived. All summer long, Afrika Korps was in a bloody tug-of-war in the desert against the larger British Eighth Army under the leadership of General Auchinleck. Yet despite their numerical disadvantage, Rommel’s panzers had punished the British again and again in 1942. Heinrick was pleased with the German war effort in North Africa and was even more pleased with himself. Today marked his much-awaited first mission on behalf of General Rommel as a major.
The propellers stopped as a ground crew moved a stepladder to the aircraft door. Heinrick would be met by Captain Rudolf Kleinstübber, the local intelligence officer for the Dieppe region.
Heinrick knew Kleinstübber and speculated that the captain would feel uneasy that one of Rommel’s chief intelligence officers had been sent to probe the circumstances surrounding yesterday’s attack by the Canadians and British.
Heinrick stepped out the door onto the top of the ladder.
“Heil Hitler, Major Schultz!” Kleinstübber was already in position at the base of the ladder, flipping the familiar Nazi salute to Heinrick.
“Heil Hitler, Captain Kleinstübber,” Heinrick returned the salute as he walked down the ladder to the airfield.
“Willkommen to France, Major.”
“The pleasure is mine, Captain.”
“So what brings one of General Rommel’s finest staff officers to France?” Kleinstübber asked.
“The general has a keen interest in what happened here yesterday,” Heinrick said.
“What happened is quite simple. The Canadian Army attempted an invasion, and we crushed them. Our intelligence capabilities were sufficient, as proven by the magnitude of our victory. Surely General Rommel isn’t concerned about our ability to predict British military operations, is he?”
“You know I can’t read the general’s mind, Captain,” Heinrick said as Kleinstübber led him to a Jeep at the edge of the airfield.
“Major Schultz, perhaps you should remind the general that the losses to the Canadian Army were devastating.”
“You are taking credit for whipping a paper tiger, Captain. It’s not the Canadians the general is worried about. It’s the British. You see in Africa, we know the British well. We know they can fight.”
“Again, Major Schultz, perhaps you should remind the general that British forces also participated in this attack. They, too, were beaten back into the sea. We’ve even taken a number of British prisoners.”
“Interesting you should say that, Captain. My report shows that some newly-formed British commando unit attacked our shore batteries to the east and west of town and that one shore battery was destroyed and the other heavily damaged.”
“Does your report also show that our naval convoy intercepted one of the commando units offshore before the attack?”
“Do you mean the same convoy that was sunk by a British destroyer and a squadron of Spitfires?”
“Casualties happen in battle, Major. You know that. My point is that the naval convoy delayed the attack on the shore battery and kept it from being completely destroyed.”
“I take it, then, that I should inform the general that the naval intercept to the west of town was a result of superior German intelligence gathering, rather than blind luck? So, if you want to take credit for that, Captain Kleinstübber, I know what the general will ask. He will ask if your intelligence was good enough to intercept the commando unit west of town, then why didn’t you intercept the one east of town? And then he will want to know why you didn’t inform the Luftwaffe and the Kriegsmarine of your intelligence so they could intercept the main invasion force and attack them in the sea.”
“Major, please.” Kleinstübber paused as Heinrick watched blood rush to his face.
Kleinstübber was probably thinking Heinrick had come to gather evidence for a court-martial against German intelligence officers in Dieppe. Surely, he knew well the penalty for dereliction of duty—the firing squad. “Please. I do not wish to take credit that is not due, but I implore you to assess our situation this morning. We still control the town. The enemy took heavy casualties and retreated into the sea. We have taken many prisoners, and hundreds of dead Canadians and British soldiers are still lying on the beaches even as we speak. The intelligence could have been better, as it always can be better in any military situation. But based on the results, I hope the major will agree that our intelligence operations here in Dieppe are hardly a failure.”
What a pleasure to watch Kleinstübber squirm.
“Relax, Captain,” Heinrick said. “I don’t think you’re going to lose your head or even your job for that matter. I’m not here to investigate the breakdown of German intelligence. General Rommel is interested in gathering intelligence on this new British Naval Commando unit that attacked our shore batteries. He’s convinced we’ll see them again. I’m here to oversee a battlefield assessment of the shore battery sites where the commando units were in action. I’ll need the help of you and your men. If things go well, I’ll be sure to mention your name in my report to the general.”
Kleinstübber looked like a man who had just gotten a reprieve from the guillotine operator. “Why yes, Major. My staff and I will provide you with the fullest cooperation. If you wish, I will have our driver take us to the battle site west of town. It’s only a couple of miles from here, sir.”
“Yes, I’d like to see the battle site now, Captain.”
“As you wish, sir.”
The Jeep pulled up on the edge of the beach beside the bombed-out concrete shore batteries. Heinrick stepped out and stood for a moment, gazing at the sight before him, watching the gentle waves lap against the rocky beach. Except for the sound of the waves and an occasional chirping seagull, there was silence.
He looked north across the English Channel. He knew the French called this body of water La Manche or “the sleeve,” since on a map it looked like a narrow sleeve separating continental Europe from the arrogant English. Were it not for “La Manche,” the flags of the Third Reich would be flying over the houses in Westminster right now.
Somewhere over the horizon was the giant island-nation that had been Germany’s principle nemesis for the last thirty years. Heinrick imagined what the scene would have been like twenty-four hours ago.
The enemy fleet was stretched out offshore, unloading poor Canadians whose bodies got chewed up by the German shore batteries.
Gone were the ships and landing craft which yesterday had wrought so much hell and destruction on their own troops. Gone was the Royal Air Force which had collaborated in the failed invasion. They had returned to their ports and airfields across the Channel to lick their collective wounds. They would be back.
Gone from this picture was everything British except for the massive heaps of human carnage left behind on the beaches. Heinrick looked east at the long stretch of rocky shoreline. Like the battle scenes in Africa, the dead British were joined by an equally-impressive number of dead Germans. In this war, death did not discriminate.
He had seen many battle scenes before, mostly in Africa, once in Crete. But the panorama before him was an unexplainable paradox of bellicosity against a backdrop of beauty. Were it not for the stench of rotting flesh and the sight of decapitated corpses with arms and legs strewn in every direction, this tranquil place by the sea would be serene enough for a picnic with Ingrid or even a family vacation with the girls.
“How long did the naval exchange take?”
“About twenty minutes, Major. We lost the aircraft and our patrol boats, but the skirmish gave us enough time to prepare our shore batteries for the invasion forces. With our patrol boats sunk, the remaining landing craft reversed course and hit the beaches right here in front of us at about 0500.” Kleinstübber pointed to a spot on the shoreline about 100 yards from where he and Heinrick were standing.
“You mean, right in front of those pillboxes?” Heinrick asked.
“Precisely, Major. Our machine-gun operators were loaded and waiting for them. We mowed down a lot of them, as you can see, but there were too many to get them all.”
“What happened next?” Heinrick asked.
“They started firing over the top of the seawall and began making charges at our machine gun operators in our pillboxes.”
“You mean, they were running into the face of machine-gun fire?”
“Yes they were, Major—into the teeth of two submachine-guns.”
“They were a brave unit,” Heinrick remarked.
“Yes they were, Major, and effective in the face of such great odds. I understand why General Rommel is interested in them.”
“Go on, Captain.”
“As I said, they kept charging over the seawall. We chopped many of them down, but finally they made it to the pillboxes and dropped grenades inside, killing our machine-gun operators. They took control of the pillboxes and started firing at the shore batteries.
“Once they controlled the pillboxes, they brought reinforcements from behind the seawall. They launched mortar rounds and portable rockets at our shore batteries.
“Their mortars hit our batteries and knocked them out. So their attack was effective. We exchanged fire till about four in the afternoon. Then they retreated back to their landing craft and out to sea. I’d say we killed about half the force as they retreated.”
“That’s a remarkable story, Captain. We have to give the enemy credit for bravery, at least.”
“Yes, sir. I agree with you.”
“Captain, I want you to summon your squadron. I’d like a few words with them before we proceed.”
“Right away, sir.”
Kleinstübber whistled and motioned for the dozen sentinels who had been guarding the perimeter of the battle site to line up in front of the Jeep.
With the squadron lined up in two rows of six, Kleinstübber introduced Heinrick.
“Guten morgen, gentlemen. I am Major Heinrick Schultz from General Rommel’s staff in Libya. I have just been briefed by Captain Kleinstübber on what happened yesterday. Let me say that the German High Command and General Rommel have an interest in this battle site because it contains the bodies of a new British special forces unit.
“From all accounts, this unit was a devastatingly-effective fighting force. We expect to see this unit and others like it in the future. Therefore, we want to know everything we can about the unit. I want you to divide up into six teams of two. Then I want you to first check all the bodies and clothing for any written materials. Collect those materials in a box and notify me of anything suspicious. Then collect all weapons left behind by this unit. Once that is done, we will collect dog tags and have these bodies disposed of. Any questions? Very well. Go to it.”
Heinrick leaned back against the Jeep and drew a cigar from his coat. “Care for a smoke, Captain Kleinstübber? I’ve found that the smell of good tobacco burning helps neutralize the stench of rotting flesh.”
“Thank you, Major.”
Heinrick passed Kleinstübber a large French cigar. The two officers turned their backs against the cool sea breeze to light up as the squadron scavenged through dead and rotting bodies.
“These men any good, Captain?” Heinrick asked, drawing a first puff from his cigar.
“Anything you’re meant to find, I can guarantee that you’ll find it, Major.”
“Good.” Heinrick drew another long puff. “That’s what I like to hear. Confidence in the troops under your command.”
“So what’s it like, Major?”
“What?”
“Working for such a famous general. What is that like?”
Heinrick relaxed with a third long puff before answering. “Rommel is a great man. Maybe the greatest commander in the world. We are outnumbered in Africa, yet his panzers respond to him with swiftness and brilliance. I’m sure you are a student of military history, Captain?”
“Of course. Military history is the bedrock of good military intelligence.”
“Ja. Well, Rommel is destined as a man of historic greatness. Whether Germany wins or loses, his tactics will be studied alongside the likes of Caesar, Napoleon, and Alexander the Great. He is the most brilliant military genius to come along in generations. The most exciting thing in my life is to serve General Rommel. You can feel the electricity around him. I am very lucky.”
“I’m envious.”
“Yes, envy.” Heinrick took another long puff from the cigar. “Envy—the predominant driving force behind war— and greed, adultery, and territorial expansion. I suppose we’d both be out of a job without it, eh, Captain?”
“Sir?” Kleinstübber looked puzzled.
“Never mind.”
“Major! Captain!” One of the soldiers on the beach motioned for the officers.
“What is it?” Kleinstübber yelled.
“This British commando has some sort of manual written in German!”
Heinrick stamped his cigar out and walked out to the beach. Kleinstübber was close behind.
“Don’t open that till I get there,” Heinrick ordered. “Where is it?” Heinrick approached the solider.
“Here, Major. As you can see, it is a little damp, but I haven’t opened it.”
“Give it here!” Heinrick took the book from the soldier. “Which body did you take this from?”
“That one,” the soldier replied as he nudged the dead body with his boot.
“Turn him over,” Heinrick ordered.
With the front of his boot, the Nazi sergeant kicked the dead commando over on his back. The uniform’s name tag bore the inscription McCloud.
Heinrick looked a moment at the lifeless corpse. The dead man’s eyes were frozen open—peering at Heinrick. He felt a chill shiver down his spine. He had seen thousands of dead men, but this man’s eyes seemed alive and seemed to be peering into his soul.
Heinrick looked away.
Then he opened the book that had been taken from the commando’s body. The words were in German. The text was strange yet had a compelling force to it.
1 Im Anfang war das Wort, und das Wort war bei Gott, und das Wort war Gott. 2 Dieses war im Anfang bei Gott. 3 Alles wurde durch dasselbe, und ohne dasselbe wurde auch nicht eines, das geworden ist. 4 In ihm war Leben, und das Leben war das Licht der Menschen.
“I want that man’s dog tag.”
“Yes sir, Major.”