Authors: Andrew Mackay
“After you, gentlemen.”
The gefreiter stepped through the giant oak doors. Artelt followed him.
“Is there anyone else in here?” Zorn asked.
“No, sir, just Scharfuhrer Behrens at the top of the tower. He’s on sniper duty.” Wilesek answered.
“Is he a good shot?”
“Yes, sir.” Wilesek’s chest puffed up with pride. “He’s the best shot in the regiment. He could shoot the skull cap off an old Jew boy’s head at one hundred meters.”
“I believe you,” Zorn said with admiration patting Wilesk on the shoulder. “And he has a sniper rifle?” He asked casually.
“Yes, sir. The best that money can buy.”
“Thank you for being so co-operative, Gefreiter Wilesek.”
“Not at all, sir.” Wilesek smiled.
“You’ve told me everything that I need to know.”
“Don’t mention it. My pleasure, sir.”
“That’s what makes this so difficult,” Zorn said gritting his teeth.
“I’m sorry sir, I don’t under –.” Zorn whipped out his Luger and shot Wilesek twice in the forehead. Artlet was too shocked to react. Zorn shot him twice in the chest before he could even get his rifle off his shoulder. The gunshots echoed around the vast cavern of the Cathedral, bouncing off the walls.
Zorn dragged Wilesek and Artelt behind a pile of chairs stacked in the corner by the entrance and then locked the main entrance door. He picked up the dead soldiers’ rifles and thrust them through the door handles to act as an extra barrier. Now, were Wilesek and Artelt carrying any grenades?
At 10.55 the Wreath laying Ceremony started with the British contingent consisting of Mayor Walker, Bishop Rathdowne and British Legion Secretary Richard Gill laying the first flowers.
Alan and Sam took up their positions by the windows overlooking the Square. They double checked that their rifles had full magazines. Ansett and Robinson did the same in their flat.
“Feldwebel Behrens?” Zorn asked through the tower roof trap door.
“Yes?”
“Senior Obersturmfuhrer Zorn. S.S. Military Police. I’ve been sent up here by Major Lindau to have a final look see before the parade.”
“Come on up, sir.”
Zorn opened the trap door and stepped out onto the roof of the tower. He whistled as he emerged. “Mein Gott!” He exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow, “quite a view.”
“Yes, sir,” Behrens saluted. “On a clear day you can see all the way to Cambridge.”
Zorn returned the salute. “How are things up here?”
“Absolutely fine, sir. The parade is proceeding like clock work. Look.” Behrens pointed. “Brigadier Wurth is about to lay the wreath on behalf of the Parachute Regiment and the Luftwaffe.”
“Where?” Zorn stepped closer to Behrens to get a better view.
“Over there, sir.” Behrens pointed down towards the Square. Zorn stepped behind Behrens, wrenched his head back and in one fluid movement sliced his S.S. bayonet across Behrens’ throat from ear to ear. Crimson bright blood spurted in an arc like a fountain as Behrens collapsed on the floor. Zorn pulled Behrens’ lifeless body over to the side of the roof, picked up the discarded sniper rifle and took up the sniper’s position. Zorn looked at his watch. It was 10.58.
There were six targets in total, von Schnakenberg, Wurth and Schuster and their three second-in-commands and there were four Resistance snipers. The bells would ring eleven times and the partisans would fire forty four shots at the same time as the bells tolled so that the Germans would not be able to tell where the shots were coming from.
Zorn rested his sights on the back of Wurth’s head. Business before pleasure, he smiled wickedly. Wurth first, then von Schnakenberg.
Sam looked up at the giant clock on the Cathedral tower. It was 10.59. At five seconds to eleven, he took a deep breath through his nose and slowly released it through his mouth. When the last breath of air had left his lungs he gently squeezed the trigger at exactly the same moment as the bell rung. von Schnakenberg was going down as if he had been hit by a sledge hammer. Sam felt a sudden rush of adrenalin. “Hit in the shoulder. Damn!” Sam swore. There had been no time to test fire the rifle and zero the sights of the weapon before the parade. And now they were paying for it. The last shot had been wide and off target and von Schnakenberg was down but not out.
Zorn’s bullet hit Wurth square right between the eyes and drilled its way through his skull to emerge out of the back of his head which exploded in a shower of blood, bone and brain tissue. Zorn smiled. “Von Schnakenberg, you’re next, you bastard.”
Ansett fired at Wurth, but Wurth was already falling. He had been shot already. “Who the hell shot him? Was that you, Robbo?” Ansett asked accusingly.
“It wasn’t me, Pete,” Robinson replied. “It must’ve been one of the boys.”
Alan’s round hit Schuster in the arm. “Bugger! I missed Schuster!” Alan shouted disappointedly.
“Shut up and keep firing! Get him with a second shot,” Sam urged.
Alan frantically worked the bolt of his rifle to get off another shot. “Calm down,” Alan said to himself. “Less haste, more speed. I see you.” Schuster was crouching and taking cover behind the War Memorial and Alan realized that he was too late. The German was out of sight and out of the line of fire. Alan swore in frustration. “Never mind. Next time, Schuster. I’ve got a bullet with your name on it. Sam, I’m switching to secondary targets.”
Robinson shot another German officer right in the centre of his chest. “Timber,” Robinson said as the German toppled backwards like a tree felled by an axe.
“Von Schnakenberg, you’re next,” Zorn said grimly. “Where the hell are you?” Zorn took his eye away from the telescope to get a wider panoramic view. “Von Schnakenberg is already down.” Zorn’s brow furrowed with confusion. “What the hell is going on?” he asked himself. People were running everywhere like headless chickens. “I don’t believe it. It must be a partisan attack.” Zorn smiled and allowed himself a chuckle. He couldn’t believe his luck. “A partisan attack will provide the perfect cover. All the deaths will be blamed on the British.” It couldn’t have worked out better if he had planned the whole thing himself. For the first time Zorn began to think that he might actually be able to pull this off and get away with it. “Time to get out of here, but time for one more shot.” Zorn pulled the trigger and took his eye away from the telescopic sight. “Got you, Lindau, you bastard. Kiss your boyfriend goodbye, von Schnakenberg.” But first things first. I need to dispose of the evidence. “Now, do you have any grenades, Behrens?” Zorn asked as he patted the pockets of the body.
The second bell rang as the wounded Lindau was leaning over von Schnakenberg, protecting him and using his own body to shield his injured friend from any further shots. Alan fired his second shot and Lindau collapsed over von Schnakenberg and lay still, not moving. Other secondary targets were also dropping. Some were S.S. and some were Army.
The third bell rang as Zorn was leaving the roof, running quickly down the stairs with his fingers crossed.
The fourth bell rang as a pack of soldiers arrived puffing and panting at the main door to the Cathedral. They had come to stop the bells from ringing, the bells whose deafening peal was preventing the Germans from locating the enemy. “Open the doors!” A feldwebel ordered.
“I can’t,” a soldier replied. “They’re locked shut.” Some of the soldiers tried to use their rifle butts as a battering ram but the ancient oak doors were many inches thick and their energetic exertions made no impact on the doors what so ever. The doors stubbornly refused to budge.
The fifth bell rang as the soldiers fired their Schmeissers at the Cathedral doors which finally began to splinter and shatter under the combined assault of half a dozen machine guns. Two soldiers fired a machine gun burst inside the Cathedral to clear the entrance and shattered the stained glass windows which had stood inside for a thousand years. “Grenade!” A soldier shouted as two soldiers threw a pair of grenades inside in rapid succession. “Clear!” The grenadiers shouted as chunks of masonry fell from the walls.
Sixth bell. The frenzied mob of soldiers crashed through the damaged Cathedral doors. The soldiers stampeded through the foyer like a herd of wildebeest and the first man tripped the booby trapped grenade which Zorn had set earlier. The explosion ripped through the tightly packed soldiers who fell like ten pins in a jumbled heap of dead and dying men. Zorn watched the shredding of the soldiers as he ran towards the Cathedral doors stairs. I must retrieve the report from Wurst’s body.
Groups of soldiers were heading for the communal entrances to the flats surrounding the Square whilst other soldiers fired indiscriminately at the windows. Soldiers continued to collapse to the ground as the assassins found new targets. Hordes of panicking civilians ran around the Square like lemmings but they were trapped by the barricades and they were trapped by the soldiers and were hopelessly caught in the crossfire.
Seventh bell. Another section of soldiers entered the Cathedral, leapfrogging over their fallen comrades. “Medic! See what you can do for the wounded.” A feldwebel ordered. He spotted an S.S. officer approaching. “Sir!” The feldwebel shouted as he snapped to attention and saluted. The S.S. officer spotted the feldwebel at the same time and returned the salute.
“Over here, Feldwebel!” Zorn replied. A thin film of sweat spontaneously spread over his forehead as Zorn realized that he was at real risk of being discovered.
“Where are they, sir?” The feldwebel demanded as his forefinger itched on the trigger.
“Down that way!” Zorn pointed down the length of the Cathedral, “I’m going to get reinforcements,” he said as he started heading towards the door. His heart was pounding so powerfully and so hard and fast that it threatened to burst out of his chest
Eighth bell. As the feldwebel streamed by with his section. Zorn picked up a discarded Schmeisser, cocked it, switched off the safety catch and pulled the trigger unleashing a torrent of bullets into the backs of the unsuspecting soldiers. Because you’ve seen me. Because I can’t leave any witnesses. Because no one must know that I was here. The men fell on top of each other like dominoes. “I’m sorry,” Zorn said as he finished off the wounded with a double tap to the back of the head with his Luger.
The Medic ordered to help the wounded heard the sudden burst of machinegun fire shatter the silence of the church. He slowly stood up and cautiously poked his head out from behind a column in time to see a figure disappear around a corner.
A section of S.S. troopers started to pound up the flat stairs to the top floor where Sam and Alan were firing.
“They’re coming,” Alan said, furiously working the bolt as he fired another shot.
“I know. We’ve still got time. Keep firing,” Sam shouted as he squeezed off another round.
Ninth bell. Zorn realized that he couldn’t leave by the main door. It was simply too conspicuous. Someone might spot him. He headed for the side exit, Luger in hand. He stepped out of the door and hurriedly jumped back to avoid being crushed by the crowd. Civilians were streaming past away from the Square, away from the shots and the shouting. Zorn cautiously started heading towards the Square, keeping an eye out for any stray German soldiers. He hoped to reach Wurst’s body and either retrieve the Report or blow up the Report together with Wurst’s body. Zorn found the entrance to the Square and slowly peeked around the corner. The Square was a scene of utter carnage and chaos. Isolated corpses and bodies lay all over the place and a particularly large cluster was grouped around the War Memorial. Zorn grinned wickedly at his own handiwork. However, he had always considered himself to be a fair man. Credit where credit was due. It was not all his own work. Some of it was the handiwork of his British partners in crime. He could see officers and N.C.O.s barking orders and trying to gain command and control of the situation. Dying soldiers tried to crawl out of the killing zone and wounded civilians sheltered in door ways and begged to be rescued.
Tenth bell. Germans were running up the stairs to the fourth floor.
“Time to leave,” Alan said, turning around and heading for the door.
“Let’s go.” Sam stood up to follow him.
S.S. storm troopers pounded up the stairs to the top floor but stopped when they saw two paratroopers emerge from a flat door. The S.S. Scharfuhrer paused. He was confused. He hesitated. “I didn’t know that you boys were supposed to be in charge of security on this side of the Square.”
“We’re not, Adolf.” Sam said as opened fire. The S.S. Scharfuhrer was going down and the next man was falling as Alan emptied a full magazine into the pack of storm troopers. Sam threw two grenades down the stairs which exploded, ripped apart the weakened banister and sent half a dozen S.S. men screaming over the side to meet their sudden deaths on the foyer flagstones at the foot of the stairs. The boys stepped over the smoking, broken and bloodied bodies and rapidly proceeded down the stairs with their weapons held at the ready with the butts pulled tight into their shoulders.
Zorn took a Red Cross armband out of his pocket and slipped it on as he ran to the War Memorial “Move out of the way. I’m a doctor!” he shouted as he reached Wurth. He felt the back of Wurth’s head and his fingers came away dripping blood, bone and gore. “It’s no use. He’s dead.” Zorn spotted the attaché brief case, which Wurth had been carrying, swapped it with the one that he had left earlier by the Cathedral door and joined a group of S.S. soldiers entering a block of flats before anyone could stop him. I must make sure that people remember that I was no where near the Cathedral. Zorn worked his way through to the front of the section and took command.
Eleventh bell. “Al, there’s another group of stromtroopers coming up the stairs,” Sam warned. “There’s too many of them. They’ll have heard the firing and the grenade blasts. The same trick won’t work twice. They’ll be on guard. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later. We’re trapped.”
“No we’re not, Sam,” Alan replied. “Quickly! Back upstairs to the dead Germans!”
The S.S. men raced up the stairs. They had heard the shooting and the explosions and they were ready to kill anything with a pulse. The lead scout saw two shadowy figures at the third floor landing and opened fire with his Schmessier. Zorn knocked the man’s barrel to the side and the bullets veered off target and drilled a neat set of holes into the wall. “You stupid bastard, they’re paras!” He shouted angrily in the shooter’s ear.