Cauldron of Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

great Valhalla of the National Socialist cause.’
    And as if to symbolize the passing of the Gauleiter, the photograph on the front page of the newspaper was consumed by the roaring flames, as the Vulture departed with the sneer of contempt firmly set on his ugly face for the rest of that grey day.
    Five minutes after he had gone, an excited von Dodenburg was talking to Jochen Peiper on the field telephone, explaining to him what had happened and how this might be the opportunity that they were both waiting for.
    Peiper listened in complete silence and when finally von Dodenburg, gasping for breath after the hurried explanation, finished, the young SS colonel lived up to his reputation for being laconic. ‘Said and done, Kuno,’ he barked. ‘I’ll have the task-force on its way by midday. Over and out!’
    Even before von Dodenburg had time to thank him, the line went dead in his hand....

 
    FIVE
     
      ‘ Cossacks ,’ Matz whispered hoarsely.
    ‘ Cossacks ,’ the Golden Pheasant quavered. ‘Oh my God!’ he mopped his fat face which was lathered with sweat in spite of the cold of the loft.
    Next to him the Butcher licked his lips nervously. He knew better than the trembling Golden Pheasant what the Cossacks would do to them, if they were caught. They never took prisoners and before their captives died, the Russian cavalrymen still indulged in the frightening little games of their half-wild forefathers.
    Schulze, who was supporting Matz on his broad shoulders while the one-legged corporal peered out through the hole made where he had removed the roof-tiles, whispered, ‘How many of them are there, Matzi and what are the banana-suckers up to?’
    Matz raised his head cautiously and looked down at the Cossacks. The cavalrymen had left their mounts a couple of hundred metres to the rear under the cover of a group of pine-trees. Now in true Cossack fashion they were crawling towards the kolhoz , drawn sabres stuck down the back of their bandoliers or in the case of their leader, a huge bearded monster, clasped between the teeth.
    Even as he watched, the hundred-odd Russians started to spread to left and right of the long low farm building, crawling ever nearer until in the end they would spring to their feet and, with that eerie battle cry of theirs, come charging through doors and windows, sabres flashing.
    ‘ About a hundred I should say,’ Matz whispered. ‘They obviously know this place is occupied and they’re making a real performance of it.’
    ‘ How far are they off?’
    ‘ Two hundred metres at the moment. In about ten minutes they’ll come in, Schulzi.’
    ‘ All right, down Matz.’
    Schulze ’s brain raced. Up in the loft they were trapped. Even if they escaped detection up there, the Cossacks, he knew, would set the whole place alight. They always did — it was part of their traditional scorched earth policy, and the exhausted survivors of the Wotan were in no position to make a fight for it. Even if they did manage to surprise the Popov mare-lovers and break out, it wouldn’t be long before the Cossacks, mounted as they were, caught up with them. Then there would be a massacre.
    Schulze creased his brow in a worried frown, while the others stared at him anxiously, knowing that time was running out rapidly and the big NCO had to find a solution to their problem soon — damn soon !
    Suddenly Schulze remembered the half-wild cannibals down below. They did not deserve to be saved. Couldn’t he somehow use them as a blind to give the Wotan troopers time enough to get out, scatter the Cossacks’ horses and make a bolt for it? He swung round on the shivering Golden Pheasant. ‘Listen, you’re our expert on the loft. Does it run the whole length of the building?’
    ‘ Yes, yes. But why do you ask, Sergeant?’
    ‘ Schnauze !’ Schulze snapped and turned to Matz. ‘Matzi, get the lads together. Double down to the end there,’ he pointed at the gloom-shrouded far end of the building. ‘Get