CHAPTER 6

Plenipotentiary

“If you know a horse, you depend on him and if he was going to do something bad, you could depend on him to do that too. I always understood horses better than I did people.”

Captain Thomas M. Stewart

Captain Lessing and a groom left the stud at Hostau on horseback, to ride to meet Colonel Holters at his headquarters at Dianahof. Following a dirt road for a few miles through the dark woods, Lessing found the specified wooden hut without difficulty.

A Sudeten German forester came out to greet them. Ominously, he told Lessing that the Americans had already taken prisoner the Germans that they wanted to meet. The hunting lodge at Dianahof had been attacked and it was still burning. He told Lessing that in order to reach the agreed rendezvous point he would have to cross into American territory. Dr. Lessing paused to think. Considering their limited options at the stud, perhaps it was wiser to continue to Holter’s last reported position and see what the Americans could offer. Rudofsky might not like it, but Lessing made up his mind. He decided to continue on alone.

“Wait here until I get back,” he ordered the army groom, adding honestly: “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”¹

Lessing switched to a motorcycle provided by the forester and rode on for several miles before stashing the valuable bike in some undergrowth, continuing on foot towards where he believed the American lines to be. He felt elated to be doing something positive, and now when he thought of his family that feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach felt a little less acute.²

Foxholes, strung out along the edge of the fir forest at irregular intervals, punctuated the hilly green countryside. Inside each, a helmeted American soldier crouched, weapon pointed east. Further back were concealed M8 Greyhound armored cars and jeeps, carefully hidden beneath trees with their heavier weapons loaded and ready. Occasional puffs of cigarette smoke wafted lazily from each two-man position, while the soldiers’ field radio crackled. The troops looked tired and dirty, their faces adorned with two or three-day stubble, eyes ringed with black, khaki greatcoats flecked with mud and leaf litter. Gloved hands rested on M1 carbines, Thompsons and M3 Grease Guns, the light, short-range weapons issued to reconnaissance cavalrymen.

“Kraut!” hissed one of the young privates suddenly and within seconds the helmeted heads had retracted down in their foxholes like turtles retreating into their shells. Carbines were pressed into shoulders; cheeks settled against cold wooden stocks and a careful bead was taken on the German officer who had staggered unexpectedly into their midst.³

“Hände hoch, Fritz!” shouted an American corporal, his eyes never leaving his carbine’s sight that was squarely zeroed onto the German’s chest. The corporal signaled a buddy with a flick of his hand. The GI rose awkwardly from his foxhole, adjusted his dented steel helmet with one gloved hand and faced the tall, slim German.

Dr. Lessing, his field-gray tunic, riding breeches and black leather jackboots spattered with mud from his long journey, straightened up, his eyes watching the American soldier cautiously from beneath the visor of his crusher cap, a small homemade white flag flapping lazily from a stick he held in one gloved hand. The most important mission of Lessing’s life had begun.⁴

After giving himself up to the American patrol, Lessing was taken under guard to the farmhouse at Vohenstrauss that was being used as the 2nd Cavalry Group’s temporary headquarters, where Colonel Reed greeted him warmly.⁵ As the German officer walked through the farmhouse, American officers and men stopped their work to stare, intrigued by their special visitor from the other side of the lines.

Lessing was somewhat taken aback by Reed’s disarming manner. Over a pleasant meal, cocktails and plenty of Chelsea cigarettes, the German gradually relaxed and talked horses with the American colonel. Reed, in turn, explained that Colonel Holters and his Dienststelle Ost personnel had been sent to the rear for detailed interrogation, but that he had agreed with the Luftwaffe colonel about the necessity of rescuing the horses and liberating the prisoners-of-war in the vicinity of Hostau. But before that could happen, said Reed, he needed the complete cooperation of the German authorities at Hostau. “The whole atmosphere betrayed objectivity, beneficence, and understanding,” wrote Lessing of his meal with Reed, “so much so that I actually was not aware of facing an enemy.”⁶

Lessing was relieved by Reed’s decision to rescue the stud and more than a little amazed. Although he had absolutely no authority from Rudofsky to negotiate with the Americans, he pressed on regardless now that the situation had been clarified. “For me,” he later said, “only one thing was decisive at this hour: to know, here I have a conversation partner with whom I can talk about the matter in all openness.”⁷

During the conversation, Lessing impressed upon Reed the fear of a Soviet arrival at Hostau and the peril that the horses and staff faced. “The Russians don’t understand much about horses,” Lessing said, shaking his head mournfully. “They don’t bother much with bloodlines.”⁸

“Well, Captain, I have a proposition for you,” said Reed, putting down his fork. “If you can bring the horses and the POWs through the forest to the American lines I can guarantee that the horses will be well protected and afforded safe passage to our rear areas.”⁹

Dr. Lessing’s face lit up at Reed’s words, but his jubilation was short-lived as he remembered the problem they faced.

“That is a kind offer, Colonel, believe me,” replied Lessing. “But it is an offer that we at the stud regrettably cannot accept or comply with.” Colonel Reed looked nonplussed. “You see, Colonel, it is the foaling season. We cannot possibly attempt to move the mares at this time.”¹⁰

Now that Reed understood Lessing’s position he was also a little frustrated. He had hoped that the operation could be kept simple, and the risk to his men and to US–Soviet relations minimized as a result. He was not keen on sending any of his men or vehicles behind the German lines at this late stage of the war, certainly in the kinds of numbers that would be required to make an impression at Hostau.

“Allow me to suggest a counter-proposal, Colonel,” said Lessing, gauging Reed’s silence carefully. “Bring your men to Hostau. We won’t shoot at your soldiers. We’re practically unarmed. Come with your unit and occupy the stud.”¹¹

Reed grimaced. It sounded like a damned fool proposal. Though General Patton and Third Army command was turning a blind eye to the rescue operation,¹² Reed knew that elements of two Panzer divisions were in the general area, along with a miscellany of shattered units and local defense battalions, not to mention diehard SS. Captain Sperl had been lucky not to have faced more serious opposition during the extraction of the Dienststelle Ost personnel and files.

Reed said nothing for a few seconds, his mind racing through the scenarios that surrounded the problem. After a while, he spoke again.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that, Captain,” replied Reed honestly. “For one thing, I’m not allowed. You see, the United States has an agreement with the Russians. The area where you are situated is to become part of the Russian zone. Our operations are limited to other sectors of the line.”¹³

Lessing was not to be dissuaded. He told Reed that his decision came down to a simple choice. Either the Americans went to Hostau, or the Soviets would kill the horses—and, based on the horrific stories that he had heard from refugees, most likely the German staff as well and perhaps even the POWs who worked alongside them. It was virtually the same story that Colonel Holters had told Reed.

Tough calls were the price of higher rank, and Reed was never one to shy away from a difficult decision. He sat back and gave the matter some more thought while Lessing waited anxiously.

“I have a suggestion, Captain,” replied Reed. “I’ll give you one of my best officers, Captain Stewart. He can return with you to Hostau and he can negotiate with your Colonel Rudofsky and we can see if there are any possibilities to find some way to get the horses under American control.”¹⁴

Lessing initially demurred, requesting that a more senior officer of field rank, at least a major, should be sent. Reed could not spare any, and anyway, the officer sent would need to be a competent rider. Stewart was ideal in this regard. “Since I was only a captain at the time,” Stewart was to write, “I suggest that my selection for the job points more to the fact that our majors and lieutenant colonels were not expendable than to any diplomatic prowess on my part.”¹⁵

Finally Captain Lessing agreed to Reed’s proposal to send Stewart, reaching across the table to shake the colonel’s hand. A bridge had at last been crossed.

“Herr General, this is a surprise,” said Colonel Rudofsky, saluting stiffly. Since Dr. Lessing had left on his secret mission much had changed at Hostau.

“Where are your veterinarians?” said Brigadier General Schulz irritably and without preamble, returning the salute. “You have two, do you not?” The general had recently been appointed to command the remaining local defense forces covering this sector of Wehrkreis XIII, the military district in this part of the Reich.¹⁶ He had established his command post in Hostau Castle, where the stud also had its offices.

Schulz had had a bad run of luck lately. Since being appointed to Wehrkreis XIII he had had to retreat on several occasions as his threadbare defense units had been defeated or pushed further into Czechoslovakia from Bavaria. One of his last actions before arriving at Hostau had been a doomed defense of Vohenstrauss, ironically Colonel Reed’s new headquarters. Schulz had managed to gather just seventeen men to fend off the American thrust at Vohenstrauss, personally leading the defense. By some form of miracle the general and his half-platoon of veterans and raw recruits had held up the Americans for a day, buying time for higher headquarters to establish fresh blocking positions on the border. Schulz had narrowly avoided being taken prisoner by Reed’s men.¹⁷

Now Schulz was at Hostau, commanding one reorganized battalion and the remaining regional defense troops in the sector west of Weissensulz and Hostau.¹⁸

Rudofsky answered Schulz’s question concerning his veterinary surgeons, a sick feeling of worry in his stomach. “They are probably on the farms to treat horses there.”

“When they come back, report to me!” hissed Schulz.

“Yes, Herr General!” barked Rudofsky, more than a little confused as to why this infantry officer was interested in two veterinary surgeons.

“Report as soon as the officers are here,” repeated Schulz darkly.

“Yes, Herr General!”

Alarmingly, Rudofsky had recently discovered that Dr. Kroll had left the stud without orders and gone out looking for his friend Lessing, leaving Hostau bereft of any veterinary surgeons.

“That will be all, Colonel. Heil Hitler!” said Schulz in a bored tone, raising his arm in a half-hearted Nazi salute.

“Heil Hitler!” barked Rudofsky, crashing his heels together as his right arm snapped out in the “German Greeting” that had become mandatory in the Wehrmacht since the failed bomb plot against Hitler at the Wolf’s Lair the year before.

Colonel Reed was sitting at a folding writing desk doing paperwork when Captain Stewart entered.

“Tom,” said Reed, “thanks for coming.” Also in the room were two regimental staff officers, Major Alexander Fraser and Major John Likes, along with Captain Sperl and Dr. Lessing.¹⁹

Reed looked closely at Captain Thomas M. Stewart, the 42nd Cavalry Squadron’s S-2, or military intelligence officer. Of average height but strong-looking, his brown hair was cut short and his face was very pale. His eyes had dark smudges of exhaustion beneath them, and weariness was etched deeply into his young face. My God, thought Reed, this boy’s had a rough time of it and no mistake. And the truth was that Stewart, like so many of the young men of the 42nd, was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Too many men had been lost and the survivors had suffered many near misses. Their nerves were in tatters after weeks of intense combat.

“Take a seat,” said Reed. “Smoke?”

“Thanks, sir,” replied Stewart, taking the proffered cigarette, flipping a Zippo lighter to its tip.

“How are you feeling?” asked Reed in a fatherly tone.

“Fine, Colonel,” replied Stewart lightly. He didn’t look fine, but then again who among them did, thought Reed. He decided to cut to the chase.

“This is Captain Lessing,” said Reed. Lessing smiled and nodded. Stewart stared back at him blankly.

“I’ve asked you here because I have a problem that I think you could help me with,” opened Reed.

“I see, sir,” replied Stewart without emotion.

“We recently captured a German air force colonel who told us a rather extraordinary story,” said Reed. For the next few minutes Reed outlined what Colonel Holters had said about the horses and POWs at the Hostau Stud, and the grave danger that they were in. He also explained Lessing’s role in the story. Stewart perked up a little when Reed described the horses. Stewart, scion of an old Scots-Irish family from Winchester, Tennessee, and the son of a senator, undoubtedly shared Reed’s passion for horses. Reed was now determined to bend that passion to his own purposes. A graduate of Sewanee Military Academy and the University of the South, Stewart was rather a bookish sort but possessed of a sharp sense of humor that made him popular with his brother officers and the enlisted men.

“The thing is, Tom, I need an officer to go back to Hostau with Captain Lessing here and negotiate with the German CO,” said Reed. “I’m not ordering you to go, you understand?”²⁰

Stewart understood. He knew Reed well enough to know that this was not a decision that he would have taken lightly. Stewart was the squadron’s intelligence officer, so he was a natural choice. And after listening to the story of the stud and the perilous situation it faced, he also understood the urgency of the mission.

“I’m not going to downplay the danger, Tom,” said Reed. “Between our lines and Hostau there are a lot of Krauts who haven’t yet got the news that they’ve lost the war. I also can’t send any of our guys with you, so you’d be completely on your own in Indian country.”²¹ Stewart’s facial expression didn’t change.

“What are my orders, sir?”

“The objective is quite simple,” continued Reed in a conversational tone. “Negotiate the peaceful surrender of the horse depot.” Reed spent a few minutes outlining how Stewart should deal with the negotiations, before he added ominously: “Be careful. If you give any sign that you understand German, the results might be fatal.”²² Stewart understood perfectly. The Germans were nervous and jumpy and would be less inclined to discuss the issue in his presence if they felt that Stewart was gathering covert intelligence on them or the military situation around Hostau. Stewart took a long final drag on his cigarette before crushing it out in an empty tin can.

Reed turned to Lessing. He made it abundantly clear that Stewart must be returned to American lines within twenty-four hours or Reed and his unit would come looking for him, and a lot of Germans might die.

Tom Stewart dressed in the smartest uniform that his brother officers could scrape together, including a rather ill-fitting service jacket.²³ It was important that Stewart look “official” and it was the best that could be managed in the field. Major Alexander Fraser, Captain Sperl and Major John Likes carefully prepared German-language notes explaining Stewart’s position as an emissary, as Dr. Lessing had warned Reed that the American would have to pass through German checkpoints to reach the stud.²⁴ They read:

The bearer of this letter, Captain THOMAS STEWART is an emissary to Col. RUDOFSKY and has my authority to arrange the handover to the American Authorities of the horses in the vicinity of HOSTAU. He is sent through the lines as an emissary under the protection of Stabsveterinär LESSING, representative of Col. RUDOFSKY who I am returning through my lines. Charles H. Reed, Colonel, Cavalry Commanding.²⁵

Lessing and Stewart then returned to the 42nd Squadron headquarters, which, according to Stewart, was abuzz with the news that Stewart was going to meet a German general.²⁶ But the atmosphere was soured somewhat by the 42nd’s commander, Lieutenant Colonel Hargis, who placed a paternal hand on Stewart’s shoulder. “You know, you don’t have to go,”²⁷ murmured Hargis glumly. It didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

At Hostau, Colonel Rudofsky was suddenly summoned again to General Schulz’s office an hour after his first probing interview.

“So, where are your veterinarians?” demanded Schulz, his voice hostile.

“Well, I have not seen them,” replied Rudofsky warily. “They must be out in the villages treating cows, or horses or pigs. There is no veterinarian in Hostau, our veterinarian, whom we had here, is incarcerated, and…” but before Rudofsky could finish his sentence Schulz cut him off.

“You are dismissed!” barked the general in an impatient tone. Rudofsky stumbled outside, fearful that Schulz had discovered the reason for Lessing and Kroll’s absences from their posts. With his hands shaking and his stomach in a knot of nervous tension, Rudofsky stalked off to his own office, his mind turning over the problem. He was also very concerned by news from the Eastern Front—Soviet forces were definitely threatening Pilsen, less than fifty miles east. Any serious breakthrough and T-34 tanks could be coming over the nearby hills in only a day or two.