Blood and Ice Read Online Free

call out the men and mount up.’ Suddenly he shot out his one hand and said with surprising formality. ‘ Hals und Bienbruch, Schulzel .’ 2
    Schulze took it uneasily. The hand was hot with suppressed fervour. ‘ Hals und Beinbruch, Obersturmbannführer. ’

    It was too late now to be afraid. Standing on his command halftrack, head ducked inside his camouflaged hood against the icy wind that blew across the limitless field of snow, Habicht looked at the green glowing dial of his watch. It was almost time to go. The feeling of heady excitement had been replaced by one of controlled happiness, like that of a child who knows he was soon going to receive a present.
    Germany was returning to the offensive again. Month after month, the Fatherland had suffered defeat after defeat. Russia, Poland, Rumania, Bulgaria, now Hungary – it seemed that nothing had been able to stop the Red Army. For every battalion the hard-pressed German forces had destroyed, a regiment had appeared; for every tank troop wiped out, a squadron; for every plane, a flight. The Reds seemed to possess an inexhaustible supply of men and material.
    Yet Habicht knew they could be beaten. Now it was no longer Germany on the march, fighting for some selfish imperialistic gain; it was Europe, striving to stop for good the Red tide which would swamp and drown it, if nothing were done soon.
    SS Regiment Europa would only be the start. Once Budapest was theirs, their success would bring thousands, hundreds of thousands of eager young men from all over Europe flocking to the silver banner of the SS. By then he might well be dead. But what did his sacrifice matter if the success of his Regiment meant that Young Europe would spring to the Germanic Cause, and put an end to the Reds.
    His fingers trembling with excitement, he pulled out his signal pistol. ‘One…two…three…’ he counted off the seconds in a shaky voice, ‘nine…ten.’
    His finger crooked round the trigger of the clumsy pistol. A soft plop and then a slight hush. The flare climbed rapidly into the dark night sky and exploded in a burst of bright green.
    It was the signal!
    All along the long column, the engines of the halftracks, jeeps, tanks burst into noisy, crazy life. Habicht, possessed by an almost uncontrollable excitement, slapped his hand on the driver’s shoulder. ‘FORWARD! …WE MARCH!’ he cried.
    ‘REGIMENT EUROPA ADVANCE!’
    Notes
    1.   Habicht means ‘hawk’ in German.
    2.   Roughly ‘happy landings’.

ONE
    Dark clouds parted in the moon’s path for an instant. Schulze, crouched next to Chink and a couple of Cheeseheads they had brought with them for extra fire-power – in case – caught a quick glimpse of the distant peaks. But it wasn’t the scenery that held his attention. It was the little bunker, almost covered by deep snow, to the right of the mountain road, fronted by a very deep drop. Then the moon disappeared beneath the clouds again and an almost total darkness engulfed them.
    ‘What do you think, Chink?’ Schulze whispered.
    Chink sniffed the air a couple of times like a dog.
    ‘Ivans,’ he announced finally. ‘Chink can tell. You smell.’
    Schulze sniffed. Yes, the little Hiwi was right. There were Russians up there in the bunker, as the Hawk had predicted.
    Schulze thought for a moment. The Hawk would want to attack – would want a ‘sacrifice of blood’ – but that was not the way he saw it.
    ‘Listen, we’re gonna take out that bunker ourselves. The four of you Cheeseheads will advance to the base of the slope, that’s about fifty odd metres from the Popov bunker. Me and Chink here will come in at the same time from the flank. When we’re in position, I’ll whistle twice. You open up with all you’ve got. Then –’
    Chink beat him to it. His long curved knife gleamed wickedly in the faint light. ‘Sergeant-Major and Chink cut throats.’ The Hiwi giggled.
    Next to him the Limburger shuddered.
    ‘All right,’ Schulze commanded,