The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

“Hauptmann, I have orders to secure this bridge and prevent anyone from fleeing the area,” the SS man replied. The obersturmführer was obviously taken aback by this gaunt, burned apparition of a Luftwaffe officer who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. His eyes were locked in near hypnotic manner on the highly esteemed Knight’s Cross around Max’s neck.

“You still have not identified yourself, Obersturmführer” retorted Max impatiently. “We will get to your orders in a moment.”

“I am Obersturmführer Johannes Strieber, of the Schutzstaffel Reichssicherheitshauptamt for this sector, Hauptmann” stammered the SS officer.

“Ah, the security police that seeks out traitors and other enemies to the Reich,” responded Max. “And just how many enemies of the Reich do we have here today?” he gestured with his left hand for emphasis to the pensive crowd of refugees silently observing the two protagonists.

“The Fuhrer has ordered that all Germans stand and fight, Hauptmann” replied the obersturmführer. “Anyone who does not do so, anyone who flees from the sound of battle, is to be shot.”

Max looked hard at the SS man for a moment. “Just what are you planning to do, Obersturmführer?” he demanded. “Assist the Bolsheviks in exterminating more of our fellow Germans? My God, man, take a look at them. They are not traitors and they are not enemies of Germany. They are nothing more than helpless women, children and tired old men. They are our countrymen, or what is left of them.”

The SS officer looked about, unsure and seemingly a bit confused. Max continued to talk to him in a lower, softer tone in an attempt to reach something human inside the black regalia.

“Strieber, the Americans and the British are to the west and approaching rapidly. The Soviets are doing the same from the east. We have lost this war, these people and those like them are all that is left of Germany. You shoot them down and you will be assisting in murdering what little hope remains of a future for our Fatherland.”

“I have my orders, Hauptmann” warned the obersturmführer warily.

“Yes, you have your orders. We have all had our orders and as good Germans, we followed them without hesitation. But that time is past, the Third Reich is finished.”

Max continued to quietly reason with Strieber, who still held tightly to the P08 Luger. “We have to do something to save what is left. Let these people go wherever they choose in peace; the Americans and the British can probably care for them far better than we can. It is over, Obersturmführer.”

The sallow faced SS officer stood indecisively for a moment, the pistol dangling along his right side from a relaxing hand. He turned abruptly away from Max and took several steps toward the watching crowd, as if he was taking a closer look at them. Stopping, he turned back around, his mind now made up. Strieber stared back at Max and his features twisted into a half-crazed expression of a resounding, institutionalized hate.

He said only one word, which was spewed through clenched teeth. “Traitor.”

The Luger came up smoothly as the obersturmführer worked its toggle action with his free hand, chambering a round. He calmly pointed it at the Luftwaffe hauptmann, who stood too far away to do much of anything about it. Of all of the ways there was to die in this war, Max found himself thinking this would have been the least likely he could have ever imagined. A short, final prayer began forming in his mind.

To his front the deciding blow and echoing shot came, but it was not the 9mm bullet that Max had resigned himself to. Instead, the small chunk of lead burrowed itself harmlessly into the dirt shoulder making up the approach to the bridge. Max remained standing, still very much alive and unharmed. It took him a moment to fully comprehend what had happened.

He refocused on the scene. Strieberer was sprawled out haphazardly in front of Max, the driving hate that dominated his face a second before now changed into sudden shock and sheer terror. His left hand was clasped tightly over the radial area of his lower right arm. The SS officer was crying out in pain and looking wild eyed at the Wehrmacht Herr senior sergeant looming above.

The unterfeldwebel had sprung forward in the manner of a large cat, swinging down hard with the fore end of his Mauser rifle. The weapon had smashed into the obersturmführer’s outstretched arm, deflecting the shot and knocking the pistol from Strieber’s hand. Still moving forward in the aggressive fashion of a man well versed to close combat, the sergeant changed his angle of attack. The butt of his weapon knocked the SS officer to the ground in an awkward heap.

Standing over the stupefied, cowering figure in the black uniform, the senior sergeant looked down on him with a cold, ready-to-kill expression. This time he did work the bolt on his 98K, sending a steel cased 7.92mm round into the chamber. Its muzzle was pointed squarely in the SS man’s face.

“I will not allow a German officer who wears the Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves to be murdered by the likes of you, Obersturmführer” spat out the sergeant. “There will be no shooting of anyone here today with the possible exception of you. The Hauptmann is right, we have lost. What you were preparing to order us to do is insanity.”

“That will be enough, Unterfeldwebel ” Max said emphatically. He walked over to stand beside the senior sergeant, who was still looking through his rifle sights at the cringing SS officer. The unterfeldwebel’s eyes were dark with fury, and his index finger had gathered up all the slack in the Mauser’s trigger.

“He is nothing but a vicious thug, Hauptmann. Sewer vermin, and he was ready to murder you in cold