The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [53]
There was a shout of approval from the Finns. Ritter stood there, Hoffer kneeling to unfasten his bindings for him, then he threw back his hood, unbuttoned the parka and took it off.
'He should have been on the stage, that one,' Strasser whispered to Jackson.
Ritter tightened his gloves and spoke without looking at Sorsa. 'My name is Ritter, Sturmbannfuhrer, 502nd SS Heavy Tank Battalion, and I am here to assume command of this unit under special orders from the Fuhrer himself in Berlin.'
Sorsa looked him over, the Winter War Ribbon, the Iron Cross, First and Second Class, the silver badge which meant at least three wounds, the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords, the dark eyes, the pale devil's face on him.
'Death himself come among us,' Matti Gestrin said.
'You will speak German, please, in my presence,' Ritter said calmly. 'I take it your men are capable of as much, Hauptsturmfuhrer, considering that they have been in the service of the Reich for some four years now?'
Sorsa said, 'Most of them, but never mind that now. What's this nonsense about orders from Berlin? I know nothing of this.'
'Herr Strasser?' Ritter called. 'You will please show this gentleman our orders.'
'With pleasure, Major.'
Strasser came forward, taking them from his pocket, and Ritter walked a few paces away, ignoring the Finns' stares, took out a silver case and selected a cigarette with care. Hoffer jumped to his side to offer him a light.
'Thank you, Sturmscharfuhrer.'
It was a nicely calculated piece of theatre, a scene they had played many times before, usually with maximum effect.
Sorsa was examining the order Strasser had passed to him. From the Leader and Chancellor of the State. Most Secret. And he was there himself, mentioned by name, everything exactly as Ritter had said. Most explicit. And most amazing thing of all, the signature at the foot of the paper. Adolf Hitler.
He handed the paper back and Strasser replaced it in his wallet. 'Well?' Ritter said, without looking round. 'You are satisfied?'
'There is a situation here,' Sorsa said awkwardly. 'My comrades and I are contract soldiers.'
'Mercenaries,' Ritter said. 'I'm well aware of the fact. So?'
'My men have voted to go home to Helsinki. We have not renewed our contract.'
'Why should you?' Ritter said loud enough for all to hear. 'When your original one is still in force until nine o'clock tomorrow morning - or would you deny that fact?'
'No - what you say is true.'
'Then it would appear that you and your men are still soldiers of the Waffen-SS, and under the Fuhrer Directive just shown to you by Herr Strasser here, I now assume command of this unit.'
There was a long, long moment while everyone waited for Sorsa's answer. 'Yes, Sturmbannfuhrer.' There was a further pause and he raised his voice a little. 'Until nine o'clock tomorrow morning, we are still soldiers of the Waffen-SS. We have taken the blood money, sworn the oath and we Finns do not go back on our word.'
'Good.' Ritter turned to Gestrin. 'You will please bring the company to attention, Sergeant-Major. I wish to address them.'
There was a flurry of movement as Gestrin barked orders and finally the Finns were drawn up in two lines. Thirty-five of them, Ritter noted that. They stood there waiting in the falling snow as he paced up and down. Finally, he stopped and faced them, hands on his hips.
'I know you men. You were at Leningrad, Kurland, Stalingrad - so was I. You fought in the Ardennes - so did I. We've a lot in common, so I'll speak plainly. Captain Sorsa here says that you're Waffen-SS only until tomorrow morning. That you want to go home to Helsinki. Well, I've news for you. The Russians are into Berlin, they're with the American Army on the Elbe, cutting Germany in half. You're not going anywhere because there's nowhere to go and if the Ivans get their hands on you all you'll get is a bullet - and