CHAPTER 12
No Way Out
“I am a Sudeten German. Here is my home.”
Colonel Hubert Rudofsky
“300 horses found”1 was the amazing message received by Colonel Reed from Major Andrews at 2050 hours on April 28, 1945. Andrews and his officers had just completed their first inspection of Hostau Stud. But this number, though impressive, was only the tip of the iceberg.
The American soldiers who had entered the stud spread out and carefully checked each building for any remaining enemy soldiers or weapons while Lieutenant Colonel Rudofsky and Captains Lessing and Kroll chatted with Major Andrews. Captain Stewart gave orders for a checkpoint to be established at the stud’s entrance gate.
The problem for Andrews and Stewart was the sheer scale of the stud. Colonel Rudofsky explained that in addition to the main facility, which was clearly crammed with horses of every description, there were also three satellite facilities at the nearby villages of Hassatitz, Zwirschen, and Taschlowitz. In total, Rudofsky announced, the facility held over 700 horses. Dr. Lessing offered to show Stewart the other studs, and the two men, accompanied by a driver, went in a jeep to each site in turn.
Barely three kilometers from Hostau, the horse farm at Zwirschen was the closest to the main stud. Stewart’s jeep covered the distance in just a few minutes, turning in to a narrow, sunken road between two high hedgerows that reminded the American captain of the Normandy bocage. To the right stretched paddocks well stocked with horses. Stewart’s jeep took a right turn on to Zwirschen’s main street and halted. The horse farm consisted of a number of buildings similar to those at Hostau and took up a good portion of the hamlet. But it was obvious when Stewart and Lessing dismounted from the jeep that all was not well.
The Germans who, along with some locals, were supposed to be running the place, did not come out to greet the new arrivals. Some Russian POWs, forcibly drafted to care for the horses, had taken the arrival of the Americans as a signal to begin terrorizing their former masters and innocent locals alike, appropriating private property and generally throwing their weight around like a gang of thugs. Captain Stewart realized that he needed to show them who was actually in charge. An ugly incident followed, beginning with Stewart demanding the return of some stolen property and ending with the American officer knocking the Russian ringleader to the ground with a powerful right hook, then punting him in the rear end with his boot like a football.2 Over the coming days, American officers would often be forced to resort to threats and even physical violence to control groups of surly and often outright mutinous groups of former prisoners from the east. American soldiers would soon be posted at the farm at Zwirschen to try to prevent looting, intimidation, and fighting.
As the little cluster of houses and stables was easily visible from high ground just outside Hostau, Zwirschen was clearly defensible and Stewart made a mental note of this before he began an inspection of the horses and their facilities. What was clear immediately was that the main stud at Hostau desperately needed these satellite facilities to ease the overcrowding.
At 2100 hours it was reported to Colonel Reed that First Lieutenant Quinlivan’s 2nd Platoon had taken up position at the main Hostau Stud to guard the horses and staff.3 This total force amounted to less than thirty men. The balance of Troop A manned blocking positions and observation posts around the village of Hostau and also threw out a series of screening patrols into the immediate countryside. The whole area was crawling with displaced German soldiers, some looking to surrender while others sought to continue the struggle.
With the coming of the night Colonel Reed reviewed the tactical situation of Task Force Andrews. Troop C maintained its control over the roads to Weissensulz, with a platoon reinforced by two Howitzer Motor Carriages and another platoon with three Chaffee tanks at the command post in Weissensulz town.4 The rest of the troop was patrolling the miles of road between the Bavarian border and Weissensulz. Troop A was fully invested in the defense of Hostau and the stud and in providing a link along the road to Troop C at Weissensulz.
After the dash forward and the fighting, both troops radioed a requirement for gasoline—Troop A requested 40 gallons and C, 200.5 This would be brought up to them in jerrycans aboard trucks, along with rations and more ammunition. The empty trucks would then load up with “sour Kraut” German POWs, as the Americans had nicknamed them, and any of the recently released Allied prisoners who wished to be repatriated, and begin ferrying them back to the American lines.
It was imperative that all Allied POWs be immediately sent to the rear. Most of the American, British, and French former prisoners were driven out. The others, the Poles, Russians, and Serbs, could not be returned to their own nations, so many decided to stay behind at Hostau and help the new conquerors. A few British and New Zealand prisoners also managed to avoid evacuation, preferring to remain at the stud. They would prove invaluable over the coming days. The main road through Weissensulz was to be busy all night long with American truck movements, making for an inviting target for any rogue German units.6
At St. Martin in Upper Austria, Colonel Alois Podhajsky prayed for the speedy arrival of the United States Army. The atmosphere in the town of St. Martin was darkening by the day, as huge numbers of refugees vied for what little food was available. Podhajsky had heard that many refugees were openly voicing the opinion that the Spanish Riding School stallions should be used to supplement their meager meat ration and the staff sent off to fight the enemy.7 Podhajsky decided to take steps to place Arco Castle into a state of defense, not against the approaching Americans, but against the local population.
Using his few infantry weapons, Podhajsky set up strongpoints in the castle and its outbuildings. The little one- and two-man positions were connected to Podhajsky’s office using field telephones, and they had overlapping fields of fire.8 The stallions were moved to a closed courtyard, well out of sight of the locals.
The US advance appeared to have slowed, but American fighter-bombers totally dominated the skies overhead, pouncing down and bombing anything moving on the roads. Podhajsky remained prepared for the arrival of the American spearheads, and with his wife he prepared for their arrival. Getting rid of their Wehrmacht uniforms would be a priority, lest the Spanish Riding School staff be rounded up as prisoners-of-war and separated from their beloved horses. A secret room was prepared in Arco Castle, where civilian riding outfits, each carefully labeled, were laid out so that when the Americans arrived the riders could quickly change.9
Colonel Rudofsky stood waiting in the main courtyard outside one of Hostau Stud’s long stable buildings on the morning of April 29, his first morning as a prisoner of the Americans since the arrival of Task Force Andrews the evening before. The whole situation made him very uncomfortable. He would finally be meeting face to face the man who was responsible for saving the horses and Rudofsky and his German staff and their families from the Soviets. And while he was grateful for their safety, to give themselves up to the enemy in this way just felt wrong.
Standing beside him were Captains Lessing and Kroll, the Cossack Prince Amassov, and a handful of other German staff. The air was still chilly and damp, with spring late this year, and Rudofsky was dressed in a long gray leather greatcoat, looking tall and somehow aloof from the unfolding proceedings. Guarding the entrance to the stud were two sentries from Bill Quinlivan’s platoon. They suddenly stiffened and brought themselves to attention. Rudofsky watched as a jeep swung into the yard and squealed to a halt in front of Rudofsky and the other officers. A couple more jeeps followed.
Two things about Colonel Hank Reed immediately struck Rudofsky. Firstly, he was sitting casually beside his driver; and secondly, when he stepped down from the jeep he was a head shorter than the German colonel. Rudofsky was surprised by how ordinary Reed appeared, dressed in a dark green steel helmet without insignia, waist-length beige field jacket and with his khaki trousers tucked into his high lace-up combat boots. The German officers saluted and Reed returned their salutes before he looked around with undisguised pleasure at the horses and the buildings, clearly keen to begin his inspection. Captain Catlett moved ahead of him, presenting each officer in turn. Reed noticed, however, that Rudofsky looked uncomfortable, his eyes rather shifty. He was also, unusually for him, hatless, having removed his service cap so that he would not have to salute Reed.10 He was also sweating profusely. Keen to demonstrate his goodwill, Reed walked along the line-up of Germans as if inspecting them before pulling a pack of Chelsea cigarettes from his pocket and offering one to each of the captives. When he reached Rudofsky, the German colonel grimaced. “Nicht rauchen,” he said, “chocolade bitte.” (“Don’t smoke; chocolate please.”)11 Several of the other German officers guffawed loudly at this.
“How many horses are stabled here, Colonel?” asked Reed. Rudofsky, replacing his service cap, consulted the careful notes that Dr. Lessing carried on a clipboard before replying.
“A total of 589, Colonel,”12 replied Rudofsky. He gave Reed a quick breakdown of the total. There were 247 Lipizzaners, 64 Arabians, 144 Kabardiners, 75 Don horses, and 59 Panje horses.13
Rudofsky enquired whether Reed had brought a veterinarian with him, as they were very short-staffed. “Of course, Colonel,” said Reed confidently, turning to one of a coterie of American officers who were standing nearby. “This is Captain Kalwaic,” he said. But in reality, it was a bluff on Reed’s part: Henry J. Kalwaic was indeed a medical man—only an MD rather than a vet.
A young Lipizzaner stallion, listed in Rudofsky’s records as one of twelve three-year-olds at the stud, was led out for Reed’s inspection, his white coat mottled with gray. As a groom held the stallion’s halter, Reed and a group of American officers stood around admiring the animal’s fine lines. Dr. Lessing, dressed in a field cap and greatcoat, was on hand to answer any medical questions as Colonel Rudofsky outlined the stallion’s vital statistics and history with a professional pride and competence that replaced his earlier awkwardness in front of the Americans. The stallion’s ears pricked back on his head at Rudofsky’s familiar voice, his tail twitching. Next, an older breeding stallion, what the Germans termed a “Hauptbeschäler”14 or “main coverer,” was led out for Reed’s inspection, his coat almost white and his shoes echoing on the yard’s cobbles. Reed listened patiently and asked some direct questions. Once the stallions had been returned to their stalls, Reed decided to view the Lipizzaner mares and fillies, which numbered 159 animals.15
Once the inspection was completed Reed and his party moved back into the yard. “Colonel?” said Reed to Rudofsky, indicating that he should sit in the American’s jeep, specifically the passenger seat. Rudofsky, taken aback at the American’s generosity, clambered aboard while Reed climbed in the back and perched awkwardly on an ammo crate.16 It was time for a tour of inspection of the outer stations and the paddocks, with Rudofsky as guide.
Around the time that Colonel Hank Reed was conducting his first inspection of the horse facilities at Hostau, Colonel Podhajsky at St. Martin received an important visitor.
Major General Erich Weingart arrived at Arco Castle after a long and very dangerous journey from Berlin in his gas powered army staff car. The middle-aged Weingart had been sticking up for Colonel Podhajsky and his horses for years during the battles with Gustav Rau, and Weingart had been a powerful friend to have. As Inspector of Riding and Driving at the Army High Command, Weingart had taken an active interest in the Spanish Riding School. Now, with the war almost over, he had felt compelled to take one last look at the stallions before he was captured. It was a melancholy occasion as Podhajsky accompanied Weingart on his tour of the stables. Afterwards, they walked together in the garden.
“You have found the best place imaginable to let the Front roll over you,” said Weingart, adjusting his spectacles as he spoke. “I am not anxious about you, for the Americans will be coming, and with your Spanish Riding School you will succeed in putting these soldiers as deeply under the spell of your white horses as you have always managed to do with me.”17 Weingart agreed to help Podhajsky one last time: he would issue a written order removing the Spanish Riding School from the Wehrmacht. This should prevent Podhajsky and his staff being viewed as enemy soldiers when the time came.
As the two men walked and talked, artillery fire rumbled in the distance. The Americans were close now. Before he left, Weingart spoke of his bitterness against the regime that had brought his country to the point of total defeat.
“My life comes to an end with the occupation of Germany,” stated Weingart bluntly, “for I have no longer the strength to begin again as in 1918. We generals will be accused of allowing ourselves to become Hitler’s tools…”18 He spoke of how he felt responsible for having served a criminal regime, and the misfortunes that had befallen Germany. Weingart took his leave and Podhajsky watched as the gray-painted staff car drove away from the castle. He would never see him again. Later, Podhajsky would learn that General Weingart had ordered his driver to pull to the side of a country road. Weingart had gone a little way into the woods, pulled out his service pistol and shot himself.
“I’ve decided that only Hostau, Hassatitz, and Zwirschen will be occupied by American soldiers,” announced Colonel Reed, returned to the main stud at Hostau from his tour. “Taschlowitz, which is the furthest east of the stations, seems inadvisable to hold considering that the Russians are close to Pilsen.”19 Colonel Rudofsky and the other German officers were alarmed when Reed confirmed just how close the Red Army had come to the stud. They understood that the Americans desired to avoid a confrontation with the Russians, and evacuating and abandoning the facility at Taschlowitz seemed prudent, so Rudofsky raised no complaints.
Reed had another problem that he had already discussed with Major Andrews. The “new mission” that General Patton had warned him about when he had first contacted the Third Army commander seeking permission to rescue the horses had materialized. The 2nd Cavalry Group was transferring south with orders to capture the Eisenstein Pass, a strategically important route for any invasion of Czechoslovakia. Major Andrews was to return with Reed to 2nd Cavalry Group headquarters later that day. The only forces that Reed could leave at Hostau would be Captain Carter Catlett’s Troop A reinforced by just two Chaffee tanks and two HMCs, including Quinlivan’s single platoon at the stud. Captain Stewart was ordered to take overall responsibility as the new task force commander.20 Stewart did the math. At full strength, a cavalry reconnaissance troop totaled 145 men. With the addition of eight men from Troop E crewing the two HMCs and the ten men from Company F in the pair of Chaffee tanks, Stewart’s army, including himself, amounted to a grand total of just 164 warm bodies. With this tiny force he was expected to secure the entire town of Hostau, plus guard the stud and two outlying horse farms. It was in total an area that covered several square miles, but the best that Stewart could do with such limited men was guard all the main roads into the Hostau area and conduct perimeter patrols. Keeping back any meaningful reserve in case of emergencies was not really possible.
Colonel Reed would be returning to his headquarters forthwith to begin organizing the evacuation of the horses from Hostau to Bavaria. To make this a success he needed Colonel Rudofsky’s cooperation.
“You remain here at your post,” he said bluntly, pointing a gloved index finger at Rudofsky, who had expected to be sent back to the American lines as a prisoner-of-war. “Make an exact list of everything that is in the stud—horses, carts, harness, saddles, forage, other material. All of this will be taken over by us and taken away.”
“Colonel, we have some Cossacks here with their families and a considerable number of horses. Should I include them on the list?” asked Rudofsky.
“We have no interest in those horses,” replied Reed bluntly. “They stay here. All the rest of the horses we carry out.”21 The American officer’s tone was unmistakable—he was the master of Hostau now, and the Lipizzaners and Arabians were the property of the US Army. The message was simple: if Rudofsky still cared for these animals, then he was to get with the program and help the Americans evacuate them to safety behind their lines. There was little time and certainly no room for sentimentality. Prince Amassov and his Cossacks, though they had assisted Rudofsky well in running the stud since their arrival, were Russian citizens, regardless of which side they had backed. Politically, they and their horses were a hot potato that Reed had no intention of holding. He would instead cut them loose to fend for themselves.
“You’ll get news before the evacuation is ready,” continued Reed to Rudofsky. “You’ll take the convoy across the border to Bavaria.”
Rudofsky appeared rather put out at Reed’s attitude, and glanced at Dr. Lessing, who was listening intently, before turning back to the American. He had good reason to take issue with Reed’s order. He pulled himself up to his full height and glared down at the American from behind his round spectacles.
“Colonel” he said slowly, “I am a Sudeten German. Here is my home. I have a property only twenty-five kilometers from here. Also, a sick mother. If it does not have to be, I do not want to go.”
Reed’s face had hardened as he listened to Rudofsky. He looked up at the German officer and barked in a no-nonsense tone: “You are coming with us!”
Rudofsky was genuinely shocked by the American’s aggressive attitude, so different from the man described to him by Dr. Lessing. The veterinarian was also slightly taken aback by the change that had come over Reed since they had last met.
“You are accompanying this convoy for the time being and will come to America with the stud,”22 continued Reed. America, thought Rudofsky, alarmed. This is not possible. But looking at the thunderous expression on Reed’s face, he decided to keep his thoughts to himself and not press the matter for the time being.
Before he departed for his headquarters at Vohenstrauss, Reed spoke to Quinlivan. He would be responsible for security at the main facility and its two satellite stations at Hassatitz and Zwirschen, which meant spreading the troops very thin on the ground, while Colonel Rudofsky, now technically a civilian, would continue to command the stud and its personnel.23
With the evacuation of the former Allied prisoners ongoing, Rudofsky had to make do with his original German soldiers, plus some former Volkssturm, Hitler Youth and the Cossacks to try to keep the place running normally until the horses could be evacuated to safety. When and how that was to be achieved was yet to be settled by Reed, as operational activities further south, part of the American advance on Pilsen, would take up most of his time for the next few days.
Task Force Andrews was now re-designated Task Force Stewart. The name of the commander may have changed, but the situation the GIs faced at Hostau was still dire. They were eighteen miles behind German lines, a tiny American island in a sea of German troops, connected to the Allied lines by a single long and thin umbilical road that for long stretches was barely protected. Stewart and his men now babysat the most valuable horses in the world, spread over three different sites, with minimal resources, minimal ammunition and supplies and little hope of relief if the worst happened. Hostau was one step away from becoming a twentieth-century Alamo.
In addition to checking that all of the road blocks and observation posts were in position and manned, a further vital thing that Stewart did was to radio through to XII Corps headquarters requesting the creation of a “no-fire area” based on the rectangle of Czech land that incorporated Hostau and the two other horse farms. No artillery fire was to be permitted inside this protected area, regardless of the operational situation on the ground.24 It was a big risk, but if push came to shove Stewart would have to rely on his own organic firepower—the two 75mm HMCs and the 60mm mortars of Troop A.
It was plainly clear to Stewart and the officers of Troop A that however carefully they sited their defenses and husbanded their limited manpower, they had to find more men, and fast. And Stewart already had a brilliant solution in mind. He had spoken to Rudofsky and the other German officers, including Prince Amassov, and it was clear that some of the troops formerly under their command felt that keeping the horses safe was now the priority, a priority higher than politics. More pragmatically, many viewed their work as a way to ingratiate themselves with the Americans and perhaps win a ticket out of Hostau when the time came to move the horses. Stewart suggested that Rudofsky and a hundred of the Germans deemed politically reliable should be rearmed, field-expedient, from the large stock of captured enemy firearms then held under lock and key.25 Prince Amassov immediately volunteered his men as well, even though Colonel Reed was not at this stage prepared to give the Cossacks a free pass to Allied lines.
The Germans at Hostau had surrendered to the Americans without firing a shot, and should the enemy retake the town, they would be asked to account for their passivity, regardless of the deal that Captain Lessing had secretly forged with Generals Schulz and Weisenberger, particularly so if it was the SS that showed up. These Germans had to be trusted, but Stewart judged the situation carefully when handing arms back to them. He needed trained soldiers, and many of the Germans had tied their fates to the survival of the rescued horses. The horses were their guaranteed way into American captivity rather than a Soviet gulag. The remainder of the Germans, those deemed suspect or uncommitted to Stewart’s cause, continued to be shipped out to Bavaria on trucks sent up by Reed or left in the town under secure lock and key.
However, even with this extreme measure, there were still not enough men. Some of the released Allied prisoners-of-war, particularly the Poles who had nowhere to go, and a handful of Brits, French, and Americans, also demanded arms.26 “Stewart’s Foreign Legion” thus came into being, one of only two occasions during the Second World War when American and German soldiers fought side-by-side.*
The “Foreign Legion” was dispersed into small multinational squads and used to bolster Troop A’s guard posts and positions. Soon the incongruous sight of battle-hardened GIs occupying positions alongside field-gray clad Germans in coal-scuttle helmets and former Allied prisoners in British battledress or French kepis appeared around the entire perimeter.
Stewart had been wise to take this course of action, for hostile eyes were watching Hostau—and watching very carefully indeed.
In a dense patch of woodland just beyond the thin American perimeter an officer stared intently at Hostau through black field glasses. Over his field-gray uniform he wore a camouflage smock, and his helmet too was covered with a layer of camouflage, allowing him to blend in well with the surrounding foliage. He dropped the binoculars from his eyes and signaled to his small observation party with one gloved hand to withdraw. As he turned he picked up an MP40 machine pistol that lay beside his knee. The black collar of his tunic caught the weak early spring sun and the lightning runes insignia flashed dully before he and his men carefully withdrew silently deeper into the woods to confer. On the left cuffs of their gray uniforms each man wore an embroidered black band with a single word picked out in silver Gothic script—“Deutschland.” The SS had arrived.
* The other was in early May 1945, when a small group of American GIs with one Sherman tank defended Schloss Itter, an Austrian castle, from the SS. The castle had been used to imprison prominent French military and civilian leaders until the German guards changed sides and fought with the Americans in defense of their famous prisoners. See Stephen Harding, The Last Battle (Boston: Da Capo, 2013)