Now in the Soviet-occupied hinterland, the Werewolves looked
back on the roaring inferno that Vienna had become. Heavy fighting was still
underway – in fact, the Werewolves’ jumping-off point in Augarten was overrun
soon after they had left it – and a huge fire was raging, set either by
looters, retreating German troops or other Werewolves. Much of the city’s
glorious St. Stephen’s Cathedral was consumed in this blaze. Fleeing this
scene, Borth’s men marched westwards, mainly by moving cross country. Near
Hapsburger Warte they sighted and nearly ambushed a small unit dressed in brown
uniforms and equipped with Soviet machine pistols. At the last moment, however,
they spotted a German Flak gunner in the presence of the detachment, evidently
acting as a guide, and they figured out that it was not a Red Army patrol, but
an eight-man group of Vlassovites, that is, Russian turncoats who had been
recruited into the Wehrmacht. They reported this development to their radio
control station, codenamed ‘Cherusker’, and were told to pick up the
Vlassovites and head for Kritzendorf, where they were to attack a large
collection of Soviet armour. This was part of a German plan to hinder a further
Soviet crossing to the northern bank of the Danube and thereby relieve pressure
on Bisemberg-Korneuburg, one of the main assembly points for German forces
retreating from Vienna. After moving through the night, the Werewolves launched
this attack in the early morning hours of 13 April. Kritzendorf was poorly
guarded, even though it was crowded with tanks, armoured cars, and three
companies of Soviet troops, as well as being the southern anchor for a Soviet
pontoon bridge across the Danube. Borth’s men launched a machine gun attack,
and the Vlassovites were able to approach a column of Soviet vehicles, being
mistaken for Red Army troopers, whereupon they suddenly attacked with their
machine pistols and hand grenades. A number of Soviet troops were killed and
three tanks and several vehicles destroyed before the Soviets began to rain
down mortar rounds on Borth’s position and the appearance of a T-34 tank
prompted a rapid retreat. However, Borth and company succeeded in making their
getaway, suffering only one dead Hitler Youth and a lightly wounded Vlassovite.
The band kept a low profile for the next few days. On the
night of 15 April, they moved to a number of forest huts near Plöcking, whence
a scouting party led by Borth’s lieutenant Franz Gary was dispatched toward the
St. Andrä-Hagenthale road. Things did not turn out well: one boy fell and had
to be carried back to Plöcking, and in turn one of his escorts, a German-Pole
named Binkowski, took the chance to desert. Since Borth did not know that Binkowski
was soon after killed, there was a fear that if the lad were captured by the
Soviets, he would reveal everything he knew about Borth’s ‘Jagdkommando’.
On the following night, three patrols were sent out. Only
one had returned by the following morning, although it could confirm that the
Soviets had set up a field hospital in Plegheim Gugging, and that in the
neighbourhood of Kierling, members of a Red Army supply battalion were busy
looting and raping the civilian population. At 4 a.m. Borth and company
suddenly heard machine-gun fire and exploding grenades from an area to the west
of their location. Waiting half-an-hour, Borth then gathered the Vlassovites
and went to investigate. They found that three of their comrades had been
encountered by a Russian patrol, whereafter they were killed and their bodies
mutilated. This horrifying discovery precipitated some sharp comments from the
Vlassovites about the supposedly barbaric propensities of ‘Siberians’, and gave
rise to the suggestion that they should retaliate by burning the nearby
villages of St. Andrä and Wörden. Borth in response said, ‘We aren’t in Russia’
– a comment he immediately regretted – and the Vlassovites in turn cursed him
as a ‘Hitler fascist’ and blamed him for German crimes in Russia. The
Vlassovites then left to scout St. Andrä, finding it full of Soviet tanks on a
refueling stop, and they returned to help Borth bury his comrades.
Factional tensions continued to simmer as Borth and the
Russian nationalists returned to camp, only to learn that strong Soviet
armoured forces had recently been sighted headed in an eastward direction.
While this movement actually involved a Soviet attempt to relieve 9th Guards
Army by withdrawing troops back to the Vienna Forest, and to shift elements of
6th Guards Tank Army to another sector of the front north of the Danube, both
Werewolves and Vlassovites mistakenly assumed that the Soviets were organizing
a sweep of the hinterland aimed at them. The Vlassovites cursed Borth’s
Ukrainian aide, Orlov, who was still out with one of the missing patrols, and
denounced him as a traitor. They pointed out that Orlov had given an early fire
signal at Kitzendorf, nearly ruining the attack, and they further surmised that
he had probably now butchered his own men and betrayed the location of the main
bivouac to the enemy. Borth replied, with a flagging sense of conviction, that
Orlov and his Hitler Youth troops had probably hunkered down with the break of
day. He was more than willing, however, to move his forces out of harm’s way.
The group marched west and then swung south-west, eventually reaching the
Eichberg area. Infighting momentarily subsided when both missing patrols, one
led by Orlov, the other by Gary, managed to locate and rejoin the group. Gary
explained that the three dead Germans found by Borth had been a rearguard from
his patrol, and that they had been spotted by the Soviets while trying to find
food in a lumberman’s house.
Meanwhile, new orders came in by radio instructing Borth to
hinder the construction of a bridge near Tulln, a job which everybody agreed
amounted to a suicide mission. The Vlassovites, however, were eager to get
underway and headed off on their own to undertake the assignment. Apparently,
they were subsequently spotted by the Soviets and massacred in a meadow near
Tulln. The rest of the group held back long enough to get a message
countermanding the Tulln assignment, which had been given in error. New
information suggested that the Soviets were not yet working on a bridge.
Instead, they were now told to march toward a nearby railway and to expect
further orders along the way.
Soon after the group began its march, an advance post
sighted a Soviet supply column. To take advantage of this opportunity, Borth
sent his raiders to the Hängendenstein, a well-known natural feature in the
Vienna Forest, where the road passed through heavy woods and it would be
impossible for the Soviets to get their horses, oxen or wagons off the road or
past a broken-down vehicle. It also began to drizzle, which softened the ground
and suggested that Soviet chances of being able to move wagons off the road
would be even more slim. There were risks involved in the operation: a mist
made the objective hard to detect; the Hitler Youth troops had never been
trained for close-quarters fighting; and Orlov suggested that there might be
large Soviet forces in the area, particularly since some Vlassovites were
reportedly holed up near Hadersfeld. However, Borth decided to proceed with the
ambush and the assault went well. Although there was some fierce hand-to-hand
fighting, which involved Werewolves jumping on Soviet wagons and striking the
Russians with the butts of their rifles, total losses amounted to only one
wounded and one killed, the latter struck down by a comrade playing with a
captured Soviet machine pistol. As a reward for its efforts, the ‘Jagdkommando’
seized food, Soviet weapons, ammunition, hand grenades, German Panzerfäuste and
material earlier looted by the Russians from Austrian civilians.
Between Tulbinger Kogel and Troppling, Borth received the
supplemental orders promised by the ‘Cherusker’ control station. In accordance
with these instructions, he sent out three patrols on extended missions in
order to attack the Westbahn railway, while he moved his own rump force to
Wolfsgraben, where it was to raid a Soviet supply dump. Fritz Hessler was charged
with leading one of the sub-units, which had success in causing minor damage,
but otherwise had an uneventful expedition.
Willy Krepp, a nineteen-year-old German-Hungarian, was
dispatched with a small crew charged with blowing up a rail viaduct at Eichgraben.
This task was originally supposed to have been accomplished by German pioneers
in early April, but it was unclear whether it had been done, and there were
worries that if the bridge was still standing the Soviets might be able to
restore rail service to St. Pölton. After meeting terrified women hiding in the
woods from Soviet assailants and looters – there were reports even of nuns
being raped – Krepp and company approached the viaduct and saw that it was
still intact. In addition to failed German efforts to blow up the structure,
American bombers had also attacked it before the Wehrmacht’s retreat, although
some of the bombs had not detonated. The Soviets on 16-17 April had forced
local men to climb the structure and retrieve these bombs, which they then
defused and threw into the stream bed. Krepp’s brainwave, which he reported
back to Borth via a message runner, was to use the explosives from the defused
American bombs to make a new attempt upon the bridge. There is no record of
what happened, although the bridge remained intact. It is possible that Krepp
detonated the bombs but that the pressure wave was not enough to collapse the
structure. In any case, Krepp and his men disappeared over the night of 19
April, never to be heard from again.
Orlov was appointed leader of the third party, and achieved
great success by attacking the Rekawinkel rail station. Orlov’s deputy, Franz
Gary, discovered through reconnaissance that a Soviet engineering unit was
billeted in the railway station and nearby houses while working on the repair
of the railroad. Orlov and Gary decided to attack the main structure, as well
as a nearby railway tunnel. While making preparations to launch these
operations, they scouted an abandoned gendarmerie post near the mouth of the tunnel.
After foraging for food, Gary came back to the post and surprised Orlov on the
phone; the latter claimed that he had been checking the line, but Gary later
insisted that he had heard him speaking Russian. After arguing, the two men
temporarily buried their animosities and returned to their squad. Orlov ordered
Gary to fire a Panzerfaust at the railway station, while he simultaneously shot
a bazooka round at the entrance to the railway tunnel. Gary’s rocket hit the
station and did extensive damage, destroying the signal tower and collapsing
part of the roof, although the blast at the railway tunnel had less effect.
Despite the fact that numerous Soviet troops swarmed into the area, Orlov and
company got away and met Hessler’s group at a pre-arranged point near
Steinpattl. Orlov was also ordered to check on the fate of Krepp’s unit at
Eichgraben, but he refused, instead leading his and Hessler’s detachments back
to Haitzawinkel, where they rejoined Borth’s group.
Early on the morning of 21 April, the reunited band paused
for rest at Hainbachberg and pondered the possibility of heading east to
Klausenleopoldsdorf, where the Soviets were thought to be assembling a reserve
to intervene in heavy fighting at Alland and St. Corona. Borth reluctantly
agreed when Orlov offered to lead a preliminary reconnaissance patrol to the
area, although soon after Orlov assembled his team and left, a scout reported
the approach of some Soviet supply vehicles coming from Alland to the
south-west. Borth sent Hessler to the road in order to ambush the vehicles and
then belatedly led half his force to reinforce this operation, while the
remainder, led by radio operator Georg Matthys, was ordered to lie low on a
nearby hill. Borth got as far as a local cemetery before shooting broke out on
both sides. While on their foray toward Klausenleopoldsdorf, Orlov and company
were sighted by a Soviet patrol, which perhaps had been alerted by an Austrian
farmer. Gary and a friend had stopped to fill the squad’s canteens at a
farmstead, but while coming back across a field, they were cut down from behind
by Soviet fire, a sight that Borth saw from a distance. What Borth did not see
was that when Orlov recovered the bodies, Gary was still alive but in great
pain; Orlov finished him off with a ‘mercy shot.’
Meanwhile, Hessler had simultaneously become involved in a
firefight with the small Soviet convoy he had been sent to ambush. Borth, who
had since caught up to Orlov at the cemetery, ordered the Ukrainian to protect
his flank while he repaired to a nearby hill and got a good a look at the road.
What he saw was not good: two Red Army vehicles had been hit and destroyed, but
a third was intact and surviving Soviet troops had mounted a machine gun on
their vehicle and were pouring out fire without pause. In the distance, Soviet
reinforcements could also be seen approaching. Hessler and company were firing
from the undergrowth but had run out of machine-gun ammunition. One boy fired
another Panzerfaust rocket at the remaining Soviet truck, but it missed and hit
a tree, whereafter the bazookaman, now marked by his weapon’s flash and smoke,
was killed by a Soviet marksman. Borth’s men swooped forward and intervened in
this situation unexpectedly, knocking out the Soviet machine gun with grenades
and forcing a few Russian survivors to flee the scene. On the other hand,
within minutes strong Soviet reinforcements had arrived and began trying to
trap Borth’s partisans in a pincer movement. The Werewolves, however, were
lucky in escaping with no further losses.
A day later, a new signal message, albeit weak and broken,
was received by the guerrillas, who were now hiding in the bush.
‘Congratulations for the Kritzendorf attack!’ ‘Thanks’, replied Borth, but his
men desperately needed a doctor, machine-gun ammunition and general supplies.
The abrupt answer was – ‘Attack Klein Mariazell!’ This order verged on the
impossible, given the condition of Borth’s Werewolves. They were suffering from
blisters – their regulation issue boots were too big for their adolescent feet;
they were filthy; their cuts, sprains and bruises were untended; they were
hungry (and therefore constipated); and their aspirin and pain killers had run
out, leaving them dependent on the stimulant ‘Pervitin’ and on flasks of vodka
captured from the Soviets. Hessler had been badly wounded in the shoulder, and
their medical attendant had been unable to dig out the bullet. In fact, they
had lost their attendant when they were forced to leave behind five wounded
boys in hunting cabins, and the attendant volunteered to stay with these
sufferers. In another case, Borth had wanted to leave a stretcher-borne boy in
the care of a local farmer, but Orlov had given the lad a suicide capsule,
which the boy had dutifully swallowed. In response, Borth promised to bring
Orlov before a military court, but the Ukrainian in turn cursed the Werewolves
as dilettantes who lacked the stomach for a real guerrilla war. Although warned
to avoid civilians, Borth had eventually led his guerrillas to the door of a
bungalow inhabited by an invalided veteran and his wife. For one night, the
couple had provided a dry environment, food and some amateur medical care, and
they had also agreed to look after three badly blistered Werewolves who were
unable to go on. Borth disarmed these boys, tore the insignia and shoulder
straps from their field blouses, and removed their identification papers and
photos.
On the night of 23 April, Borth and his small band gamely
attempted to execute their next mission. They tried to cross the St. Corona-Altenmarkt
road, but had to take cover when a Soviet column approached. They then heard
the oxen and wagons of a Red Army supply convoy, which they fired at and
attacked with hand grenades while crossing the road to the Kaumberger Forest.
In the woods, they next stumbled upon a Soviet bivouac and were met by a hail
of bullets, since the Soviets had heard them coming. Three Werewolves were
killed and several others wounded and presumably captured. By morning, the size
of the ‘Jagdkommando’ was down to Borth, Orlov, Matthys and twelve other boys.
With this sorry remnant, Borth fled to Steinriegel Mountain
and went to ground in the young growth around the rise. His ‘Cherusker’
controllers told him to sit tight and keep his eyes skyward, since he was
scheduled to soon be provisioned through airborne means. Several days later,
Borth’s Werewolves sighted some low-flying airplanes, but were unable to signal
them with flashlights. As a result, they built some signal fires and shot
flares, which drew the attention of the Luftwaffe airmen and showed the
aviators where to drop three supply containers, two of which were recovered by
the guerrillas. The Werewolves beat a hasty retreat, however, when they spotted
a light shining from a farmyard about a mile from the drop zone. They fled
across the highway to Hainfeld, but got lost in heavy fog and spent two days
hiding in some ruins in Araburg before they seriously began to consider
resuming active operations. Although strictly forbidden, they also began
scavenging for food locally, fearing that their parachuted supplies would not
last long.
On the night of 28 April, the boys undertook a
reconnaissance and discovered the Soviets moving large numbers of men and tanks
through the area west of Hainfeld. Several days later, as Soviet soldiers
celebrated May Day, the Werewolves attacked a fuel dump at a factory building
outside Hainfeld. They killed a number of guards with machine-gun fire and blew
up barrels of petroleum with hand grenades. They also shot up an armoured car
that arrived during the fight. Retreating in disarray, a few Werewolves in
Borth’s company managed to elude their pursuers by taking a small footpath
heading to Vollberg. When they reached a pre-arranged meeting point, however,
Borth was surprised to learn from Orlov that their radio operator, Matthys, had
been shot and badly wounded by a deserter, whereafter he had turned his weapon
upon himself. The group’s radio had also been damaged in the skirmish and was
rendered useless.
Since contact with the ‘Cherusker’ headquarters was now cut,
the most practical course of action was for the battered band to fight its way
back to German lines. For several days they had to lie in wait, since the
Soviets had launched a large-scale counter-insurgency sweep of the area, including
aerial spotting by an Ilyushian 153 biplane. After the intensity of the search
diminished, the boys broke cover and found refuge in a small farmhouse, where
they were helped by a farmer who told them that his son was in the SS. All the
news about the outside world was bad from a Werewolf point of view: Hitler was
dead, the Americans had reached Upper Austria, and an independent Austrian
provisional government had been formed. Once on their way again they were shot
at near Durlasshöhe, probably by a hunter, but at St. Veit an der Gölsen, they
ran into a serious fight, mainly because they were sighted by a farm woman who
feared they were bandits and screamed for help. A Soviet patrol showed up and
in the resulting shoot-out two Hitler Youth boys were killed and Orlov was
wounded. By the time that they had extracted themselves from this situation,
however, the group was tantalizingly close to German lines, which they reached
at Klosteralm on 5 May 1945.
Early on the following morning, Borth was debriefed by his
old Werewolf instructor, ‘the Bishop’, who informed him that the new Reich
President, Karl Dönitz, had just prohibited any further Werewolf activity.
Interestingly, although the Dönitz cancellation order specifically excluded the
Eastern Front, local SS officers nonetheless regarded it as applicable.
Prützmann put Borth forward for a Knight’s Cross – his name apparently came up
in the last discussion between Dönitz, Prützmann and Himmler – but the war
ended before he could receive his award.
Despite everything that had happened, Borth remained an
enthusiast. Flaunting the capitulation, as well as Dönitz’s prohibition of
Werewolf activity, he maintained a Werewolf group of former Hitler Youth
leaders in order to execute a mythical ‘Führer Decree’ for German youth to
fight on in the underground. This conspiracy only disintegrated in September
1945, when the group was raided by the Austrian state police. After Borth’s
subsequent release from internment, he was again arrested when testifying for
the defence in the February 1948 trial of neo-Nazi conspirator Anton Fischer,
mainly because he tried to use the event as a platform from which to relaunch
the Werewolves. Before appearing in the witness box, he had sent letters to the
Vienna newspapers inviting them to the trial, ‘where I will announce the new
political program of my Werwolf group of young National Socialists.’ After his
acquittal in a new trial, Borth went on to play a leading role in the Austrian
neo-Nazi milieu of the 1950s and ’60s, also serving as an agent for the
Austrian and Italian secret services and as a probable organizer of the
NATO-supported ‘Gladio’ network of stay-behind formations intended to fight the
Soviets in case of a Third World War.
