Members of the SS-Jäger-Bataillon before boarding their transport in Spain
August 28, 1940
Seville Province, Spain
Helmut Wolf was falling from the sky and, much to his chagrin, it was by choice. Moments earlier he had walked to an open doorway and jumped out of a perfectly good plane. His legs had been like jelly and his whole body had been shaking, but he had jumped all the same. As he fell to earth he craned his neck backward and looked at the thin sheet of silk that was controlling the speed of his descent and that was -unbelievably- keeping him alive.
In a way, jumping out had almost been better than staying in. The flight had been an absolute nightmare. They had taken off not long after midnight and begun heading south. Soon after passing over Madrid, anti-aircraft fire had begun lighting up the sky, seeming to grow in intensity the farther south they traveled. The transport he was in had been rocked violently by near misses, but had not taken any direct hits. Other transports had not been so lucky and Helmut had seen some of them plummeting to the ground in flames. The only time the ride had been moderately peaceful after that had been just before he jumped out. He had wondered why that would be, but that question was quickly forgotten when it came time to jump out the door.
He looked back down and tried to get a visual on the ground that he was steadily approaching. At first he couldn't make out any particular details, but soon enough a rather alarming image began to form below him in the moonlight. It looked as if the ground below was moving. It seemed to ripple and undulate and Helmut began to wonder if he was going to come down into water. As he drew closer he realized it wasn't water he was seeing, but the leaves of trees blowing in the wind. There was nothing he could do to alter his course so he simply shut his eyes and waited for impact.
He struck the treetop from straight above and he could hear small branches snapping as he plunged downward. Something scratched at and cut his face and he clenched his teeth together against the sudden pain. Finally, his canopy caught fast and he was jerked to a stop. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down. The weak moonlight that had allowed him to see the treetops as he fell was gone now, unable to penetrate the wall of leaves overhead and all he could see below him was darkness. With a sinking feeling in his stomach he realized that he could be anywhere from fifty feet off the ground to just five.
Pushing a growing feeling of panic away, Helmut began to undo his harness. He took a deep breath and prepared to fall, mentally running through his training on the best way to strike the ground safely. Once he was completely unhooked he fell downward. He struck the ground almost immediately. So surprised was he at striking the ground so quickly that his legs came out from under him and he landed hard on his bottom. He climbed to his feet slowly and began walking in a random direction. He had no idea where he was, and was troubled by the wooded area that he was in. The target for the drop had been a field southwest of the city of Seville and there hadn't been any wooded areas in the vicinity. He knew that he had come down far from the target zone, but the how far?
After walking for several minutes, all the while straining his ears to pick up the slightest noise, he emerged from the wood and into a small field of tall grass. Once again given the advantage of moonlight, he took a moment to look around. The wood faced the field in a semi-circle that stretched out to either side of him and disappeared into the darkness. The field itself seemed empty and had a black line running through it's middle that Helmut guessed was a road. He followed the road with his eye and saw that one end of it led to a small town perched on a slight rise about 100 yards away. He weighed his options quickly. He had no idea where he was and the town might be the best place to find out. However, he didn't see any of the weapons and ammunition crates that there supposed to have been dropped and he was armed only with a knife and pistol. If there were enemy troops in the town he would hardly be able to defend himself.
As he gazed toward the town he suddenly became aware of a sound to his rear, as if someone was attempting to slip up behind him. Helmut slowly moved a hand up and pulled his pistol from it's holster. Spinning around, he brought the weapon up and prepared to fire, only to find himself staring into the eyes of a fellow commando. Helmut let the pistol drop to his side and whispered, "Who are you?"
"Hahn, sir.", came the reply.
"Why didn't you give me the sign, Hahn?"
The young soldier shrugged slightly and replied, "I wasn't sure if you were a Spaniard or not, sir. I was trying to get a little closer before I said anything."
Helmut nodded and asked another question, "Where did you come down?"
Hahn pointed behind him and said, "About fifty yards back. I landed in the field just at the edge of the wood. I saw the town and began moving towards it. I figured that if anyone else had come down nearby they'd be doing the same."
"You didn't happen to see a weapons crate did you, Hahn?"
"No, sir. Sorry."
Helmut cursed softly and looked back at the town ahead. Making up his mind, he gestured for Hahn to follow him and the two began moving toward it, making sure to keep off the road and to stay low to the ground as they did. Once they were about thirty yards from the town they could hear voices drifting toward them in the dark. They both immediately flattened themselves to the ground and held absolutely still. The voices, speaking in Spanish, were coming closer and Helmut raised himself high enough to risk a look. Four Spanish soldiers were on the road and coming closer. Helmut didn't know if they were on a routine patrol or if they were investigating the landings in the area as he let himself drop back to the ground.
Motioning for Hahn to follow, Helmut began to silently creep through the tall grass toward the road. Once near the roadside, the two waited until the soft voices of the Spanish soldiers had passed them by before they raised themselves up. Helmut used hand signals to instruct Hahn on which targets were his and the two fired their pistols into the Spaniards. Three of them were dropped instantly. The fourth whirled around to find himself confronted by two armed Germans, one of which shouted in Spanish, "Put down your weapon!"
The terrified Spaniard complied and Helmut beckoned him closer. After a quick search to relieve him of any additional weapons or useful pieces of intelligence, he forced the prisoner into a sitting position and pulled out a map of the Seville province. Helmut pointed the barrel of his pistol down at the map and asked, "Where are we?"
The prisoner licked his lips and stared at the two Germans. Just when Helmut was starting to think that he would refuse to tell them, he finally pointed a shaking finger at a small dot on the map that represented a place called El Castillo de las Guardas. Helmut swore and folded the map back up jammed it back into his pocket with incredible force. He was much farther north than he was supposed to be.
He turned to Hahn and said, "We're way off of the target zone. We'll stay here for awhile and see if anyone else straggles in, but we can't stay long. After that we head south."
Hahn jerked his head toward the prisoner and asked, "What about him, sir?"
Helmut looked over at the prisoner for a moment and said, "Can't take him with us, it'd be too much trouble. Can't let him go either."
"Well, what do we do then, sir?"
By way of answer Helmut quickly raised his pistol and shot the prisoner. Hahn jumped back in alarm as the Spaniard's lifeless body fell backward to lie still in the grass. Helmut ignored the open mouthed stare he was getting and holstered his weapon before standing up and walking toward the bodies of the other three Spanish soldiers. He relieved them of their rifles and ammunition and tossed a rifle and some clips to Hahn who had hesitantly followed him over. He was sticking some of the ammunition into his pockets when he heard someone call out, "Friend or foe?"
Helmut recognized the voice and shot back angrily, "Damn it, Durr, use the sign! If I was a foe, don't you think that I'd say friend?"
Durr popped up from the other side of the road and answered with a smile, "Sure. But you would have said it in Spanish and I would have known you were lying."
Helmut shook his head as Durr turned and said something over his shoulder. Five more men stood up in the grass and the small group moved to where Helmut stood over the bodies of the fallen Spanish soldiers. Helmut noted that they were all carrying only pistols but asked anyway, "Run into any weapons crates?"
Durr shook his head and Helmut passed him the other two captured rifles and some ammunition. Durr tossed one of the rifles to a man next to him and asked, "What now?"
Helmut replied, "Well, we're still missing nine men from our aircraft. They've got to be nearby, and they're probably headed this way." He pointed down at the dead men at his feet and went on, "We'll take up position on either side of the road to repel any patrols that come looking for these guys, but we'll have to fall back if it gets too heavy. We can't stand up to a major attack without proper equipment."
Helmut went to a knee and beckoned for Durr to do the same as he pulled the map from his pocket. Pointing down to it he said, "We're here, way off target. Now, this road we're on goes down to the south and east until it hits the larger road coming down from El Ronquillo, just to the north of Seville. I want o head to that road junction and set up a defensive position. Any other members of the Bataillon that came down too far north as we did will eventually come to that junction and it'll be the best place to gather everyone together."
Durr nodded and directed his men to fan out into positions to defend the roadway. Helmut stuck the map back into his pocket and slipped back into the grass to wait. Things weren't going exactly according to plan, but with a little luck he just might be able to salvage something out of this.
