Initiative (The Red Gambit Series Book 6) (29 page)

The bridge rose, taking the seventy-seven ton tank with it, reaching an impressive height before gravity resumed control, returning the lump of metal to ground.

The tank slammed into the riverbank, nearside first, and rolled onto its top, messily flattening the upper portion of the insensible Hertz, who had somehow remained within the cupola.

Whilst not as demonstrably deceased as Hertz, the rest of the Tiger’s crew were equally dead, slain by concussion and hard impacts with the unyielding metal of the tank’s interior.

The destruction of the bridge was the signal for mayhem to commence, and all along the route of advance, Soviet troopers revealed themselves, raining down death and destruction on the stalled Legion column.

Two of the other King Tigers took numerous hits and both added smoke and flame to the confusion, some of the escaping crewmen screaming as fire took hold on their clothing.

The surviving King Tiger shrugged off Molotovs and a panzerfaust hit, and pushed off the main road, meting out fire and destruction in the direction of anything that looked like a threat.

All along Osterbachstrasse, legionnaires were dying, as hidden pockets of resistance sprouted bullets and grenades.

But the ex-SS troopers reacted swiftly, and mounted assaults on the known and suspected positions, quickly reducing half of the resistance at the end of the bayonet or with a sharpened entrenching tool.

The physically weakened Russians stood little chance in a battle of strength, and very few of the Legion’s soldiers died in the swift hand-to-hand combats that ensued.

Surprisingly, some Soviet soldiers raised their hands, seeking life over sacrifice and, perhaps more surprisingly, the Legion soldiers, for the most part, accepted their surrender.

Some ex-SS soldiers, most often those with dead or wounded comrades lying around their feet, chose a quicker and more vengeful resolution.

At the rear of the column, the infantry platoon deployed and swept forward, supporting the aggressive moves of the trapped main force and the recon elements that had survived the ambush.

The soldiers of the 4
e
RACE, mainly unaffected by the attack, secured their own area and, under orders, waited for further developments.

The commander of the 1
er
BAS decided to remain where he was, set his unit for all round defence, and sent a messenger forward to establish what was going on, all as he struggled with finding his whereabouts on the map.

Casualties dictated that the Battle Group’s command had switched to the officer commanding the Second Company of 3
e
/1
er
RDM.

Captain Durand had grown in stature since the early days of the Legion Corps, when he had distinguished himself during the relief of Stuttgart, and had risen immediately to the challenges of his enhanced duties. It was he who was responsible for ordering the assaults and movements that saved the small battlegroup, and ensured victory in the brief but intense battle for Knickhagen.

The infantry of 3
e
/1
er
RDM overcame Stalia’s men in less than thirty minutes, enabling Durand to report Camerone’s right flank clear up to and including Knickhagen.

Rolf Uhlmann, temporarily thrust into the spotlight as Camerone’s senior surviving officer, pushed the rest of the division hard towards Wilhelmshausen and the bridge they needed to hold.

Things started to happen and, unusually for the Legion Corps, they started to go wrong.

The lead elements of the 7
e
RDM ran into more mines in unusual numbers as they moved north of Fuldatel, approaching their crossing point on the Osterbach.

Part of the way was marked by dead Soviet soldiers, men felled by their own mines in their haste to escape.

Uhlmann, aware that the 7
e
and its supporting elements would, at some time, move across his front, did not receive the report of their delay, neither did the divisional headquarters relay it back to him, as commander on the ground.

The 1
er
Bataillon Amphibie Spéciale came under fire from mortars across the river, causing the unit to scatter and lose cohesion.

Camerone’s artillery were tasked with plastering the area east of the Fulda River, keeping enemy reinforcements away from Wilhelmshausen and its vital bridge, denying their support to the under-pressure 1
er
BAS, the stalled 7
e
RDM, or the elements of Camerone advancing north of the Fulda.

Uhlmann ordered the 1
er
BAS to reform and prepare to force the Fulda east of Knickhagen.

As a stopgap measure, Uhlmann ordered the remaining heavy tanks of the 1
er
BCL to position themselves on the two hundred metre line, north of Knickhagen, and do what they could to support an assault crossing, should the commander of 1
er
BAS be able to mount one.

Acting both with and without orders, 4
e
RACE followed the heavy tank unit onto the height.

4
e
’s orders had been to accompany the tanks, so, in that regard, they were correct to move off in pursuit.

However, those orders had been issued under different circumstances, and divisional staff officers assumed that the anti-tank unit remained at Knickhagen, and marked their maps accordingly.

The men of 1
er
BCL and 4
e
RACE were also unaware that the 7
e
RDM had been stopped dead by mines to their southwest, their last orders simply stressing to avoid friendly fire against units coming up from Fuldatel.

In the defence of the staff personnel and leadership involved, Wilhelmshausen had started to develop into a major engagement, as considerable Soviet forces were well dug in on the outskirts and inside of the small town, calling more and more of Camerone’s limited assets into the fight.

Elements of the division, mainly based around the bulk of the 3
e
/1
er
RDM, sought out the tracks and paths on the southern slopes of Height 346, intent on crossing the Mühlbach to the north of Wilhelmshausen, to try and turn the right flank of the solid enemy resistance.

They, in turn, ran into more trouble, as more mines and well-sited defensive positions chewed up the advancing legionnaires until they were down to a yard-by-yard slugfest.

To the north, Alma had similar problems on the road to Reinhardshagen, where the main approach ran through a pass heavy with Soviet defenders intent on staying put.

The exchange and receipt of information almost collapsed under the strain, and many staff officers, normally proficient and professional, underachieved in their roles.

With devastating results.

Kon had waited on the reports from the group he had sent to check on Knickhagen.

They reported that the enemy force had come to a halt and was making no identifiable efforts to move on.

With an enemy formation halted and in the open in front of him, Kon had resisted the temptation to go at it hammer and tongs, remembering the responsibility the ATPAU tanks represented, although the commanding Major had been all for an immediate assault.

With the enemy force in Knickhagen stalled, an assault on the units to his front was possible.

Leaving two of the SPAA vehicles with the security element to watch their rear, safe in the woods in which they had been concealed, Kon led the two IS-IV variants into the attack, flanked by the deadly ZSU-12-6s.

Each IS had a grape of infantry on board, purely to watch out for any infantryman with an eye for glory and an anti-tank weapon in his hand.

Fig # 195 – Battle at Knickhagen – Soviet counter-attack.

The 1
er
BAS had moved to the river line but had yet to cross, as building Soviet fire stopped them dead.

Above them, the surviving tanks of the 1
er
BCL spotted forces moving up from the southwest.

“Hold your fire.”

The crews of the three tanks, concealed in over watch positions, expected to see the 7e RDM move north from Fuldatal, so saw exactly that.

The men of the 1
er
BAS expected to see the 7
e
RDM come up the road to the south from Fuldatal, so saw exactly that.

Except they weren’t the friendly troops of the 7
e
RDM, but the ATPAU moving down upon the stalled amphibious troops, tank guns silent in an effort to not attract attention and get in close enough for the ZSUs to do bloody work.

The senior man, a weary ex-Obersturmfuhrer from the Frundsberg Division and commander of the last surviving King Tiger, took an extra deep draw on his cigarette and exhaled as he spoke into the command net, informing them of the arrival of the lead elements of the 7th Legion Infantry Regiment.

“Ritter-one-four, out.”

He took another long draw, unaware that his report had triggered consternation in Camerone’s headquarters.

7
e
RDM’s radio sprung into life, requesting a situation report; the reply added to the confusion at base, as the whole unit was still stalled south of the Osterbach.

“Ritter-one-four, Ritter-one-four, Anton, over.”

“Anton, Ritter-one-four, go ahead, over.”

“Ritter-one-four. All units Rotkopf are stalled at point seven, repeat, all units Rotkopf still at point seven. Confirm identity of units to your front immediately, over.”

Lieutenant Laurenz threw his cigarette away and brought up his field glasses, this time using them to actually scrutinize the force that had appeared out of the trees, rather than just for a cursory examination.

“Scheisse!”

In his anger, he thumbed the throat microphone heavily.

“Anton, Ritter-one-four, force to front is Soviet armour and infantry, engaging, over.”

He switched channels immediately.

“Achtung! All units Ritter, enemy to front. Engage immediately, out.”

His ears were filled with the acknowledgements of the other tank commanders and the shouts of his own crew, as the gunner and loader made their reports, and the driver revved the Maybach engine, making sure he was ready for any movement order.

The amphibious unit suddenly had more to worry about than the desultory fire coming from the woods to their front.

Voices were raised in alarm as some soldiers identified the oncoming vehicles as enemy, or, more accurately, as not of the Legion.

Kon, sensing his discovery, ordered all vehicles to open fire, selecting a large amphibious vehicle as his first target.

The 130mm shell demolished the LVT, leaving precious little to mark its existence, and nothing in the slightest bit recognisable of the men who had been aboard it.

The other IS-IV managed to miss, the shell streaking through the target-rich area and ploughing into the ground a few hundred metres beyond.

Either side, the ZSUs commenced sending streams of heavy calibre bullets into the throng, cutting men and vehicles to pieces with the volume of fire, each DShKM mounting capable of flinging over three thousand rounds per minute at its enemies.

The noise was tremendous, but still not enough to mask the passage of high-velocity shells overhead.

Incredibly, the Legion tigers all missed with their first shots, the armour-piercing rounds serving only to announce the presence of unsuspected enemies on the western heights.

Kon, conscious of a lack of heavy opposition to his front, ordered the two IS-IVs to swing left, leaving the ZSUs to finish up the massacre of the amphibious unit.

To add to their problems, T34s slid out of the trees into firing positions, adding weight of shell to the streams of heavy machine gun bullets.

Kon could still see nothing on the heights and knew the enemy would get another shot in before he could use the advantage offered by his 130mm.

‘There!’

The muzzle flash gave him a point to concentrate on, and his sight revealed enough for him to fire at.

“Gunner, target tank, gun left eight degrees, range six-five-oh.”

The turret whirred briefly.

“No target.”

“The hedge, comrade, look at the hedge.”

The ‘hedge’ spat another shell downrange, and the white blob quickly grew large in both commander’s and gunner’s sights.

The clang was tremendous, but the shell failed to penetrate and, for the observers, flew spectacularly skywards, disappearing from view.

“Identified… firing…”

The vehicle almost staggered, losing forward momentum, as the huge 130mm flew back in its mount.

The shell missed.

Kon examined the lie of the land.

“Driver, move left… to that heap…”

The IS-IV slipped in behind the pile of something unmentionable, clearly the by-product of a thousand livestock.

The breech on the huge gun clanged shut.

Another shell struck the turret front and, again, deflected off without causing noticeable harm.

“Identified… firing…”

The 130mm tank version of the Soviet naval gun had been refined, with deeper rifling, an improved breech, an auto loading mechanism, and superior optics, making it potentially, the best gun on the modern battlefield.

Its weakness was in its ammunition, which failed to measure up to the potential offered by the huge gun.

None the less, the armour-piercing shell punched through the frontal plate of the Tiger I, exploding inside the tank, level with the right ear of the driver.

The Tiger came apart spectacularly, as the internal explosion set off other forces, ripping open the fifty-six ton tank like it was a balsa wood model.

The Soviet tankers celebrated their victory, halting only when another shell hammered into their frontal plate, causing many of the internal lights to fail.

‘Time to move.’

“Driver, move out left… head for the road… then full speed into the trees.”

Kon saw a way to get round the flank of the enemy, moving back towards the ZSUs he had left to cover his rear.

Laurenz completed his radio report and returned to fighting his tank.

“Leave that one, target, tank, left two degrees, range six hundred.”

“On.”

“Fire.”

The 88mm struck the IS-IV on the front plate, but the tank was expertly angled, giving the heavy tank the maximum protection, and another shell disappeared into the ether with no lasting effect.

To Laurenz’s left, the surviving Tiger I scored a direct hit on the nearest ZSU.

The IS-based ZSU-12-6 stopped dead, its engine wrecked by the passage of the tank shell, and was immediately abandoned by its crew, who sought cover from the vengeful Frenchmen of 1
er
BAS.

In an instant, the other ZSU realised its predicament, and dodged back behind a line of small trees.

The desperate manoeuvre did not save it, as the Tiger hit the gun mount with an armour-piercing round, smashing metal and flesh, and creating a mist of deadly metal fragments that claimed more lives.

The severely damaged ZSU made off, jinking to avoid further hits.

It escaped, aided by the fact that more Soviet armour was presenting itself on the east bank of the Fulda River.

Laurenz heard the squawk box alert him to the presence of someone outside the tank, and lifted the handset, leaving his gunner to fight the tank.

It was the deputy commander of the 4
e
RACE.

“Laurenz, we’re set up and ready to engage. Just making sure you aren’t going to move forward if we start sending our wasps down the hill.”

Nothing could have been further from his mind at that time, so Laurenz was able to reassure the Lieutenant.

The single Pak40 attached to the RACE lashed out at the assembling T34s, without success, and attracted a volley of shots that, while they missed, unnerved the crew for some time to come.

‘Assembling? They’re assembling… for what?’

Laurenz’s mind idly debated what he was seeing, as well as the problem of the ‘whatever the big bastard was to his front’, and the other one that had skipped off to his right.

Ending his exchange with the anti-tank officer, Laurenz decided he had to do something about the missing tank, and switched to the local net.

“Ritter-two-one, Ritter-two-one, Ritter-one-four, over.”

The terse acknowledgement was accompanied by the sound of the other Tiger’s 88mm firing, and the howls from the successful crew.

To his front, the damaged ZSU was hit again, and this time started to burn.

“Ritter-one-four, Ritter-two-one receiving, over.”

He quickly checked and could see no sign of the missing Soviet tank.

“Ritter-two-one, that other bastard disappeared off to the right and into the woods. Take your tank and knock him out. Keep him out of point five at all costs… and don’t let him get behind us, over.”

“Roger, Ritter-one-four, Ritter-two-one, out.”

Laurenz stuck his head out and watched the old Tiger I back out of its position, angling away behind a stand of trees.

The roar of a passing heavy shell brought him back to reality, and he resumed command of his tank, only to be struck momentarily dumb by the sight in front of him.

‘What the…’

The T34s were moving forward in columns, four lines moving up to the east bank of the Fulda… and across the water…

Laurenz had heard of them before, but this was the first time he had seen them first hand.