Night of the Nazi Zombies

• CHAPTER ONE
  
• CHAPTER TWO
  
• CHAPTER THREE
  
• CHAPTER FOUR
  
• CHAPTER FIVE
  
• CHAPTER SIX
  
• CHAPTER SEVEN
  
• CHAPTER EIGHT
  
• CHAPTER NINE
  
• CHAPTER TEN
  

All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
First published in Great Britain by Swordworks Books
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Cover design by Swordworks Books

It was the morning of the 6th of June.
 
A day that signalled the opening of the Second Front in Europe and it was part of the grand battle plan of the Allies to surround and finally defeat Nazi Germany.
 
After years of grinding warfare on the Eastern Front it was the turn of the British, Canadian and American troops to open up a second front.
 
These Allied armies would soon be arriving in massive numbers and if successful would not stop until they reached Berlin.
 
Whether the operation would be successful though only time would tell.
 
Thousands of ships, transports and aircraft were already either on their way or preparing to leave England along with a massive assortment of specialised equipment and machines.
 
Before the huge armada would reach French soil though, small numbers of elite airborne infantry would be sent in.
 
These specialist troops would land hours before the main landing and seize important objectives, knock out weapon installations and clear the way for the rest of the ground forces.
 
These troops were lightly equipped and could not fight for long before they would need to be relieved.
 
What they did have though, was months of tough training leading to military forces that could fight longer and harder than any other units in the army.
 
Whichever way it went, it would be the largest invasion in history and its success or failure would help determine the outcome of the war.
 

* * *

The small French village had been used as a base of operations now for several months, part of the German preparation for the inevitable arrival of the Western Allies.
 
Though not directly on the coast, the village was on the path of any aircraft that might make a journey through Normandy, and in the last few weeks they had seen activity from various enemy aircraft.
 
The largest building in the area was the old farmhouse, with its many outbuildings, space for vehicles in its yard and access to a rough but useable road.
 

Adrienne, a seventeen year old girl was hidden in the cover of a small grove of trees, intently watching the German position.
 
From her vantage point she could see the German 4-barrelled flak gun and a burnt out truck.
 
Behind the truck, under an improvised shelter were two R35 French light infantry tanks.
 
These outdated vehicles had been captured during the lightning advances of the German forces in 1940.
 
They were now relegated to use with reserve units and looked the worse for wear.
  
The main changes to the vehicles for their service with the German military, was a new paint scheme and an upgraded main gun for use as a tank destroyer.
 
Although of little use against more modern tanks, they would certainly be of danger to any Allied soldiers that might come across them.
 
Adrienne made light scribbles in her small leather notebook and then continued to watch.
 

Two German soldiers were relaxing next to the massive 88mm flak gun emplacement.
 
This weapon was one of the pieces of equipment Adrienne had been recording carefully for the last few months.
 
Unlike many of the other large guns this one was a truly universal weapon and something that offered a substantial threat to a future Allied invasion.

The 88mm gun was a German anti-aircraft and anti-tank artillery gun that was built in very large numbers.
 
Unlike most anti-aircraft guns though it could also be used in the anti-tank role where it was mounted on a versatile base from which it could be fired without unlimbering.
 
In this capacity the 88mm gun was capable of penetrating any known tank, no matter how thick its armour.

The men were smoking and chatting.
 
Adrienne watched one carefully; he was looking and gesturing towards something in a case near him. Adrienne, intrigued by the hidden item left the cover of the trees and followed the low stonewall that ran alongside the lane.
 
She could hear the sounds of the men laughing, the loud voices reminding her how close she was to them.
 
Creeping along she came to a large gate.
 
Moving ever so slowly she moved her head around the corner, towards where the two men were.
 
They were gone!

Adrienne ducked back behind the wall, her heart now pounding.
 
Where were the men and what if they discovered her?
 
She put her hand in her pocket grabbing her notebook, the precious evidence that would mark her out as a traitor and liable for execution on the spot.
 
Before she could do anything else a loud crash signalled the return of the men, carrying another case.
 
Summoning up all her strength she moved back around the gate for a closer view.
 
She was acutely aware that anything unusual must be recorded and passed on through their contacts directly through to the British and Americans.

A hand moved from behind her, closing over her mouth, another grabbed her shoulder and pulled her backwards. Adrienne tried to scream but the hand over her mouth muffled the sound.
 
She struck out, trying to push her attacker but to no avail.
 
With a great effort she managed to pull her attacker down to the ground only to see it was her friend Madeleine. She puts her finger over her mouth, signalling to Adrienne to keep quiet.
 

She whispered in her ear, “We have to go…we have received the signal.”

“We have?” Adrienne asked.
 
Madeleine looked excited

“Yes, they are coming.
 
We have to get back with the others.”

Adrienne looked relived, “Okay, come on then, let’s go.”

Madeleine moved to stand up, only to be pulled back down by Adrienne.

“No, stay low, they’re near the gun,” she spoke quietly.

Madeleine nodded.
 
They moved back, creeping slowly along the wall until they reached the tree line.
 
There they rummaged around until finding their bags and knapsack.
 
With these they left and followed a trail.

“Do you think they know?” asked Madeleine?

“I don’t think so.
 
These Germans are acting the way they always do,” responded Adrienne.
 
“I’ve been waiting for this day for more than three years now.
 
Are they really going to save us?” she continued.

The two girls came to a wooden fence.
 
Madeleine climbed over it first, then helped Adrienne over.
 

“Papa says the British have promised they will be here.
 
He says when they arrive our people will rise up and throw the Germans out of our country,” said Adrienne, who looked less than convinced.
 

“I don’t know, they’ve had years to come and help and what have they done?”
 

Madeleine put her fingers to her mouth, the two girls ducked down near the gate.
 
Adrienne moved up and whispered to her, “What is it?”

Madeleine pointed to the lane running along the nearby field.
 
Squinting, Adrienne could just make out the rough shape of an armoured vehicle.
 
It was one of the German R35 tanks that had been parked at the German compound.
 
It looked like there were several men hanging onto the back shouting.
 
The tank was incredible, made worse due to the silence of the French countryside.
 
These Germans were obviously not in the slightest interested in being discreet.

“What are they doing?
 
Maybe the battle has started?” asked Madeleine.

“I don’t know, we need to get back to the others and find out what is going on.” Adrienne responded.
 

The two girls continued their slow, careful crawl, keeping their heads down whilst the noise of the Germans started to fade.
 
The ground was damp and dirty but nothing was going to make the girls lift themselves out of the muck.
 
The risk of discovery by the Germans was their greatest fear.

* * *

Unteroffizier Steiner had been drinking continually for the last four hours.
 
He was sat up high on top of an R35 tank, with his left hand he held on tightly to the turret.
 
It was a rickety old French vehicle and certainly not comparable to the tanks produced by his own side.
 
With his right hand he held onto something even more valuable though, a half full bottle of red wine.
 
The drink had come from one of the many crates discovered in the basement of the French farmhouse Steiner and his men had occupied in the last two weeks.
 
Steiner was a veteran of the Eastern Front and had years of experience as a combat soldier.
 
This new posting though was down to a problem in the East that resulted in him been sent to this new unit in disgrace.
 
A disagreement with an SS officer had ended violently and he had been lucky to escape with his life.
 
Now he had been attached to the Ost 642 Battalion, a unit of deserters, Russian prisoners and all of those the German military wanted to pretend didn’t exist.
 
It was hardly an elite unit or even a posting that demanded much from him.
 
There was little for him to do now but drink and wait for something, anything, to happen.
 
For now he was being driven down this peaceful French lane by a Russian driver on a captured French tank.
 
That, coupled with the wine, was enough to make Steiner forget all about the war for the time being.
 

Waving the bottle in the air he shouted to the men, “Faster!
 
To the river, I want a swim!”
 

The driver, a scrawny looking Russian couldn’t hear the shouts.
 
This wasn’t the first time Steiner had been out for one of these joyrides; it was the only use they had found for most of the French equipment they had been equipped with.
 
There was certainly no combat use for these vehicles; they had been waiting for useable ammunition for over a month now.
 
The only things they did have were flares and a small amount of fuel.
 
They also had orders to ensure all the vehicles were fully operational and tested every day.
 
This was supposed to mean that each day, at an allotted time the tanks and trucks would have their engines started.
 
They were then run for twenty minutes to blow out the filth and junk and to make sure that when the time came they could drive somewhere more useful.
 
Steiner in the meantime had found a much more effective way to warm up the engines!

He looked ahead; the tank hadn’t increased in speed.
 
He turned back and looked behind them, seeing just the dark lane.
 
He took another swig from the bottle and gulped it down.
 
He then leaned over to one of the other soldiers who was hanging onto the tank and reminded him via a tap on the head from his wine bottle.
 
The short looking Russian turned to him.
 
The man was even scruffier looking than Steiner.
 
He wore no jacket and his shirt half open revealing skin to the night sky.
 
The man leaned down inside shouting and prodding the driver.
 
On top of the tank Steiner relaxed, enjoying the feeling of power as he sat on the war machine, brandishing his bottle.
 
It could be a lot worse he reasoned.