Devils with Wings: Silk Drop by Harvey Black Page A

deepened. Not so much the disappointment of the failure of the Luftwaffe, or even the invasion of England. It was more a disappointment of not being able to utilise their paratrooper skills in helping to lead the German Army to victory.
    “I know it’s not what you, what we, expected or wanted to hear, but that’s the way it is gentlemen.”
    “Is the decision likely to be rescinded sir?” piped up Max.
    “No Feldwebel Grun, it has been well and truly axed.”
    “And the good news sir?” said Max, suspecting there wasn’t any good news.
    The rest of the company looked from one to the other, the expression on Max’s face giving out a message of doubt. Then a smile slowly spread across the tough sergeant’s face, softening some of the hard lines. Equally Paul’s face split into a grin, then they all knew what was coming.
    “We get to do extra training Feldwebel Grun, of course.” They both burst into laughter, steadily followed by the rest of the company.
    “Dismissed.”
    The cook looked out of the window, shaking his head. Even the Battalion Commander picked up the sound of laughter carried towards his office on the gentle breeze. He stood up from his desk and moved to one of two windows that looked out onto the camp. His dark, hooded eyes peered through the glass. Brand, he thought. Why am I not surprised? The world could be falling apart and it still wouldn’t dampen his spirits or that of his men and his sidekick of a sergeant.
    He smiled for the first time that day. He was as disappointed as the rest of the Fallschirmjager that Operation Sea lion had been cancelled.

CHAPTER FIVE

    Paul hailed Max as he saw him striding across the parade ground,” Feldwebel Grun.”
    Moments later the burly sergeant was stood to attention in front of him, saluting.
    “We’ve a job at last Max.”
    “About bloody time too sir, I was thinking of transferring to the cookhouse, they get more action than we do.”
    “You a chef Max?”
    “Well maybe not sir, don’t want to lower my sights do I? Anyway it sounds like you’ve come to my rescue. Where are we going?”
    “Greece Max, Greece.”
    “What’s happened out there for them to need us?”
    “Well since we came to Mussolini’s rescue the battle has been progressing well Max. 9 th Panzer Division have reached Kozani and are looking to force a river crossing. They’ll be across the Aliakmon River before we know it.”
    “Where the bloody hell is that sir?”
    “West of Thessaloniki and they’re heading south to Corinth, Geography not your strong subject at school then Max?”
    “School of life me sir. So, let me get this right, the Greeks kick the Italians out after they fail to invade them and we have to come to their bloody rescue, can’t they sort themselves out?”
    “They’re our allies Max and they obviously need our special talents.”
    “Of course they do sir. I could have told them that.”
    “Are the troops still on the ranges?”
    “Yes sir, I was about to join them.”
    “Let’s go together then, I can brief the men. Have you got any transport?”
    “I’ve got a Steiner and driver sir, follow me.”
    They made their way through the barracks to the waiting Steiner jeep, and sped off for the short journey to the camp’s firing range. The regular cracks from the Kar 98s, indicated that range firing was in full swing.
    The jeep pulled up, dropping the two paratroopers off before returning to the barracks HQ. Paul and Max headed for the range firing points, having stuffed cotton wool in their ears. The company was on a range training day. It was imperative, as an elite unit, that they maintained a high level of competency in handling and firing their personal weapons. He pulled the cotton wool from his ears as the men had ceased firing at the sight of the officers approaching.
    “How will the guys react Max?”
    “They’ll be relieved to get away from the camp sir.”
    “You’ll be able to top up your tan Max and flaunt those muscles of