Escape From Berlin

Major Jack Miller, of the United States Rangers, was twenty-nine years old, and looked like exactly what he was – a man fed up with war. It had raged now for five years, since 1939, and it felt more like ten years.
He found himself in a position he didn’t think he would ever be in, but then, he was sure every soldier thought that. He had been separated from the rest of his battalion in Berlin, and chased by enemy soldiers for two hours all over the city, leading them a merry dance, but capture soon arrived when he came across three German tanks.
He was in the lead tank, with a tank sergeant keeping him covered with a Schmeisser. He was being taken God only knew where, though he could make an educated guess.
He was starting to drop off to sleep, despite the circumstances, and was violently pulled up from the laying position he had slipped to by the sergeant. It was then that the sergeant realized that Miller was only pretending to sleep.
Miller grabbed the Schmeisser, and while it was still in the grip of the German, sprayed the private at the controls, killing him instantly. Simultaneously, he rammed the butt and his elbow into the German, knocking him down, and held onto the Schmeisser as the grip was released. He shot him in the chest.
Instantly, he jammed the barrel into the back of the captain’s head, and said, with immense charm, ‘I’d really prefer you didn’t alert anyone. What I would prefer you do, is get me out of here.’
‘That’s impossible. How can I do such a thing?’
‘By blowing those other two tanks to pieces.’
‘What? I can’t do that. They are my soldiers.’
‘Yes, but I’m the one with the gun.’
‘Then you’ll have to kill me,’ the captain said, as though it wouldn’t happen.
‘Okay.’
The captain’s head exploded from the close range fire of the Schmeisser, everything covered in blood, brain, and skull fragments. It was the most ruthless Miller had ever been, but he had to get out of this. He had no intention of encountering what the Germans had planned for him.
He took the controls of the tank, and began to turn it in the opposite direction, pulling it across the road to reverse it. He could only imagine what the other tank officers were thinking, and, sure enough, the voice of one of them was coming through the captain’s radio.
As Miller continued his manoeuvre, the voice continued to demand what was going on.
Miller now had the tank facing the other two, as yet another demand to know what was going on came over the radio. The answer was a shell being fired on one of the tanks, turning it on its side, smoke billowing from it.
He quickly jumped out, down to the ground, and ran for cover as a shell hit his tank, turning it on its side like the other one, more smoke clouding the road.
As he dived behind a tree, gunfire erupted, throwing up dirt all around him. He kept still, and stayed still. He heard voices, and the inevitable happened. The German officer was coming to investigate.
When Miller heard the German landing to the ground, he came from behind his cover, on the run, firing. The German was taken by surprise, and wouldn’t have had time to do anything anyway. He was dead in an instant.
There was panic from within. But they didn’t react quickly enough. Miller was inside the tank, cutting them down immediately.
It was over.
He rendezvoused with the remainder of his battalion. But how, and what happened after, is another story.
Now he had to get to the rendezvous.
His battalion, or what was left of it, must have had the shock of their lives when the German tank rolled up, but Miller soon put their minds to rest. Relief flooded through the remaining eleven of the nineteen, and quickly, things proceeded the way they were supposed to.
The only slight change, made on the spot, was use of the newly acquired tank . . .
A couple of minutes along the road was the means of their escape. They knew not the reason for it, but a Luftwaffe lieutenant was waiting in a field, a Storch plane in a huge barn.
It was something of a surprise when a tank approached on the road, and stopped. It didn’t move, and no one got out. Curious, the lieutenant approached cautiously.
Miller suddenly shot out of the hatch, the Schmeisser in his hand, pointing it at the lieutenant, who instantly saw that he definitely wasn’t German.
‘Greetings!’ Miller said, with a huge smile. ‘I’m afraid me and my friends here,’ the rest of the battalion came out of the gathering night, much to the lieutenant’s surprise and fear, ‘are in a bit of a hurry. So,’ he said, dropping down and standing face to face with the German, ‘I was wondering if we could borrow your Storch in there.’
The German was dumbstruck by the politeness of it all, and was about to speak, but was quickly cut off by Miller when he exclaimed, ‘Excellent!’ He turned to the others. ‘The nice lieutenant, here, is very kindly loaning us his Storch. So, we’re on our way boys.’ He turned back to the lieutenant. ‘Thank you. Let’s go, then.’ And he pushed him along.
Having got everyone on board the Storch, Miller said to the pilot, ‘Have you a parachute?’
‘Yes.’
‘Put it on, then let’s get moving.’
‘I don’t think you realize what you’re doing,’ said the pilot, putting the parachute on.
‘Yes, I do,’ he said, happily. ‘I’m liberating a German plane with you as the pilot.’
‘What if I won’t fly it?’
‘Then I’ll kill you,’ Miller said, in the same happy tone, pointing the Schmeisser, threateningly.
The German climbed into the pilot’s seat, started the engine up, and they were quickly away.
‘What I was trying to tell you earlier was that this plane was taking General Prochnow to a meeting with the Fuhrer.’
‘They’ll both have a long wait,’ Miller said, ignoring the words he had just heard.
‘How did you get hold of a German tank anyway?’
‘That’s how,’ said Miller, pointing. ‘That’s my handiwork.’
‘You blew up two tanks!’
‘No - one. The other was courtesy of the tank commander from whom I took the one that I arrived in.’
Stuck on the wrong side of the two destroyed tanks was a very official-looking black car. ‘Your general, I assume.’
‘Yes. Where is it we’re going?’
‘You just keep on the course you are, and I’ll inform you of the changes.’
They were flying over German farmland when Miller went back to the pilot, and said, ‘I would like a word. My private, here, will take over.’
They exchanged positions, and Miller took him into the back. ‘You remember earlier when I said I’d inform you of the changes in destination?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I’m informing you of a change.’ He opened the hatch, and the air immediately rushed in in a great roar. ‘Out you go.’
‘What?’
‘Jump.’ The lieutenant didn’t know what to say he was so shocked at Miller’s order. ‘Jump,’ Miller repeated. ‘You’ve got your parachute.’
‘You’re not going to kill me?’ he said, surprised.
‘No, I’ve had enough of that for one day, and certainly for an entire lifetime.’
And it was true. He hated what he’d had to do in the tank, and wasn’t about to give the same performance.
‘What’s your name?’ the Luftwaffe pilot asked.
‘Major Jack Miller. And yours?’
‘Lieutenant Jurgen Radl.’
‘Off you go, Lieutenant Radl.’
He jumped into the night, the parachute opened like a flower, and he floated to the field below. Miller closed the hatch, and the plane was returned to the sound of the engine only.
They made it safely to Norway, when everything suggested something quite different, and eventually made it back safely to America.