Impasse (The Red Gambit Series) (38 page)

More Soviet tanks resisted Knocke
’s flanking move, and that too came to a halt.

Knocke understood that the
seesaw battle had, once again, tipped in favour of the enemy, and sought a way to snatch the initiative back.

“
Berta-One, Berta-One, Anton-One, over.”

Knocke repeated the message, although he suspected he would do so in vain.

There would be no reply, for the Balyan’s BS-3 had killed Uhlmann’s tank with its first shot.

He closed his eyes in a brief plea to higher authority and spoke to the next in line.

“Caesar-Zero-On...”

The 122mm struck the
Tiger’s gun mantlet, shaking everything from radio to man, but not penetrating, although the hot glow of its strike made it through the armour to the left of the gunner’s sight.

“
Crew, report in.”

“
Driver ok, engine fine, Sir.”

“
Loader ok and ready, Herr Oberfuhrer!”

“
Gunner, weapon up and ready, S-S-Sir.”

The last report betrayed the fright the man had just received.

Meier reported in again.

“
Willi’s dead. He’s just dead.”

Eyes dropped to take a look and the man was clearly that, eyes open and distantly fixed, head lolling back beyond the point of comfort.

“Driver, reverse and left, gunner sweep centre to right.”

The
Tiger moved immediately, the white-hot trail of another 122m shell punching the air where Knocke’s tank had been a moment before.

“
Target tank, Stalin type, nine hundred metres. Halt!”

“ON!”

“FIRE!”

Nothing.

“Again.”

Still nothing.

“Driver, reverse and left again. Gunner, fix it now.”

Immediately the gunner spotted the problem and repaired the
linkage issue caused by the direct hit.

He waited until the tank stopped moving again.

“Target tank, Stalin type, nine fifty metres.”

“
Fire!”

The
88mm recoiled as it spat its deadly shell in the direction of the enemy vehicle.

The target was concealed by a shower of
white-hot sparks as shell met armour plate.

“
HIT!”

“
Well done, gunner. Again.”

Knocke observed as the Tiger
’s gunner put an 88mm right on the money, the IS-III again erupting in a cascade of tortured metal.

The monster shrugged off the hit
, and put its own shell in the air.

Knocke smiled as the enemy shell tore high and wide.

“Again.”

Knocke watched as another shell struck the Stalin tank, the tracks disintegrating. Even
at that distance, and in the weird light of a night battle, Knocke could observe two of the heavy track links scythe through a group of supporting infantry, metal tearing flesh in an unforgiving fashion.

“
Again. Between the tracks.”

The IS-III, hit whilst attempting to move, had exposed its wounded side sufficiently for
‘Lohengrin’s’ gunner to make a telling hit but the light suddenly went and he baulked sending a shot into darkness.

“
Lost target!”

Knocke rejected the flare pistol, knowing he would illuminate himself more than the target.

One of Alma’s mortar crews did the work, tossing illumination almost perfectly, so perfectly that the other tanks adjacent to the IS-III became immediately apparent.

“
Got the schwein. ON!”

“
Fire!”

Knocke ignored the break in procedure.

The 88mm took the heavy tank just above the nearside front road wheel.

Deflected upwards by the bulk of the floor plate, it entered the fighting compartment, moving through the driver
’s seat and striking the turret ring. Again deflected, the armour-piercing shell passed through the commander’s body before striking the back wall of the turret and exploding.

“
Well done, gunner. New target, left eight, range nine forty.”

The IS-III was clearly dead
, and now provided excellent illumination of the surrounding area, revealing a cluster of four adjacent tanks to the Tiger’s gun.

Knocke went through the motions of tank commander automatically, aware that the crew around him were a special group of men, a team, welded
together in adversity.

The
gunner drew his critical eye and he took in the man’s decorations, including the shiny new Croix de Guerre.

Something clicked in his mind
, and he spoke his thoughts.

“
Ah, Lohengrin.”

K
öster smiled.

“
You remembered, Oberfuhrer.”

“
Target tank, nine hundred.”

“
Fire! Indeed. Général St.Clair spoke of little else for some time... Sergeant Köster?”

Posed as a question, the acting loader could only grin and nod as he ejected the smoking shell case and slotted another home.

“Target tank, left six, nine hundred. I’ll give you your Tiger back as soon as possible, but for now, you’re stuck with me.”

A shell dropped next to the Tiger, the clatter of metal fragments sounding like a rain shower on the vehicle
’s side.

“
Target tank, eight seventy.”

“
Fire! Driver, relocate, forward and left.”

Burning tanks and vehicles littered the ground
east of Brumath.

A line of tanks and half-tracks indicated the high-water mark of the Alma advance, to the east of them numerous fires betrayed the price the Soviet defenders had paid to stop them.

Fire illuminated the battlefield, outdoing the efforts of the moon and stars, whilst producing smoke that tried hard to smother the battlefield.

The night was sometimes clear, the next moment the men on the ground could see no more than a few feet in front of them and, often, found themselves choking in thick acrid smoke.

The artillery and mortars of both sides, now in new positions, added to the creation of a living nightmare.

Knocke was correct in assessing that the Soviet force was advancing
again, but could neither assess its strength nor objective, although he could take a guess at the latter.

After a radio exchange with the Alma
’s commander, St.Clair, he understood that things were out of control. The units of ‘Normandie’ were all stretched beyond their normal limits, and finding well organised and aggressive defence turned into counter-attacks, almost in the old SS style.

Radio messages from hard-pressed units brought more and more contact reports, building a picture of a growing Soviet presence on the field; certainly one well in excess of the intelligence reports.

Again, leaving the crew of ‘Lohengrin’ to fight the enemy to his front, Knocke concentrated on the bigger picture, pencilling marks on his map and rattling out an order here and there.

The tank moved unbidden, forward and left, angling itself behind a ramshackle wall.

The 88m roared; the crew celebrated another kill.

Knocke heard all and gathered everything
in the background of his mind as he concentrated on the radio messages; one message in particular, that spoke of a disaster in the making.

‘
Schiesse verdamnt!’

One of his units was in dire need and Knocke acted immediately.

“Gun, cease fire. Driver, reverse back to the track and then swing north-west. Best speed, Meier, best speed.”

Köster took up his seat, blowing out his cheeks and rubbing his aching arms, sparing the Legend a quizzical look.

The Tiger surged forward up the track, Meier coaxing the very best out of the Maybach engines that propelled the fifty-six ton tank according to his will.

“
Part of Martha’s about to be overrun, and we’re all that can stop it, Sergeant. Ammo?”

“
Mostly HE now, Oberfuhrer. Nine AP shells only... and we don’t have a logistics train with us.”

Tannenberg was away to the south, and neither Camerone nor Alma had any Tigers on their strength.

Knocke, in a way that only Knocke could carry off to perfection, spoke with conviction.

“
Nine will do the job nicely.”

‘
Lohengrin’ did not let them down.

“
Martha-Two-Two, Anton-One, nearly with you. Hold on. Over.”

One of Camerone
’s flak units had moved up with the Alma, and it was their cry for help that Knocke had heard.

“
Driver, turn right fifty metres. See that clump? In behind that, left side.”

The Tiger took the turn
, and Meier skilfully dropped Lohengrin in on the left side of the clump of trees.

‘
Not a moment too soon!’

“
Numerous enemy to front. Gunner, target tank, left eight, four hundred.”

The electrics whirred, bringing the 88m online and filling the gunner
’s sight with the green metal side of an IS-II.

“
Target tank, four hundred.”

“
Fire!”

The solid shot struck home fatally.

“Gunner, target tank, right three, four hundred.”

“
Target tank, four hundred.”

“
Fire!”

Like automatons they worked
, smashing the IS-II’s in turn. The fifth shot was a total miss, and two targets needed a second AP shell to ensure the kill.

The solid shot came and went
, and then HE was used, with no chance of penetration, not that the Soviet tankers knew that.

Having lost six of
their number to the single enemy tank, the tank unit lost heart and started to fall back, hastened along by the spectacular impacts of 88mm high-explosive shells.

Blagoslavov
’s command had been reinforced and Knocke had fallen upon the flank of a heavy tank company, just in time to save his Flak unit.

“
Well done, Kameraden, damned well done.”

The crew of Lohengrin had added another chapter to the tale of their exploits
, and it would spread and grow, the more so because the commander of Camerone had fought the tank for most of the battle.

“
Eighteen HE shells left, Oberfuhrer.”

“
Then I’ll ask no more of you and your men today, Sergeant.”

Knocke had spotted a
n infantry command vehicle behind a barn two hundred metres away.

“
Your tank, Sergeant Köster... and thank you.”

Making sure the crew could all hear him, he continued.

“Gentlemen, it’s been a privilege. Get yourselves back and sorted. When this is over, we’ll speak again.”

“
Now,” Knocke braced himself on the cupola to address Köster and prepared to pull himself out, “Get your tank fit for action and your men rested.”

“
Zu befehl, Oberfuhrer.”

Knocke found himself at the command vehicle
of the 2nd Battalion, 1st RDM, being briefed on the unfolding disaster by a wounded Commandant Emmercy.

Clearly
, there were more Soviet formations, tank heavy ones at that, than they had expected.

The Red Army had counter-attacked
in strength from the north, and Alma was being forced out of Brumath, electing to withdraw through choice, and with control, rather than risk being driven out in a disorganised fashion.

Knocke, presented with a full s
ize map properly annotated, acted immediately, issuing orders to get his command out of the growing disaster around Brumath.

The Legion would retreat
in a controlled fashion, and regroup south and southwest of Brumath, shortening the line.

Braun
’s force had already moved back over the river while it could, orienting defensively to halt any attempt to cross, as well as protect the approach from Hœrdt.

Elsewhere, the Legion assaults had been blunted in a bloody and expensive fashion, the cost in men and materiel high on both sides.

However, it was at Brumath, and to the east, that the greatest sacrifices had been made.

The 412nd Mechanised Brigade lost all but seven of its tanks
, and a quarter of its infantry lay dead upon the field.