Initiative (The Red Gambit Series Book 6) (73 page)

He concluded his warning but remained focussed on the air activity, as more and more aircraft seemed drawn to the area northwest of Trendelburg.

Puzzled, von Hardegen sought out the air liaison officer.

“Mime-two, Mime-two, Wotan-six, over.”

The DRL Captain responded immediately.

“Mime-two, Wotan-six, report on air activity northwest of Trendelburg, over.”

“Wotan-six, Mime-two, situation unclear. Reports state enemy armoured column under attack. We’ve no information on any armoured column in that area. The flight leader states they are Soviet tanks and vehicles. I’m trying to find out more, over.”

“Mime-two, received. Keep me informed. Out.”

Von Hardegen had a sense of something not right, and made a quick decision.

“Walküre-three-six, Walküre-three-six, Wotan-six, over.”

The response was swift and he gave the halt order, which was also speedily acknowledged.

“Walküre-three-six, Wotan-six, maintain your present position until further orders. Be aware of enemy armoured force northwest of Trendelburg, in the vicinity of Deisel. Out.”

One of the attacking aircraft, bearing the new German state’s markings, pancaked onto the ground spewing smoke and flame and bounced three times before flipping on its back.

For the briefest of moments, Stelmakh considered making an attempt to rescue the man frantically pushing at the canopy, but abandoned the idea, understanding that he would not reach the man in time.

There was also a part of him, the part that had lost much of its humanity in the meat grinder that was war, that discarded the notion on the principle that the man had it coming, given what the German pilot and his comrades had done to the column of T34s and infantry.

The mechanised unit had no business being where they were, and had brought unnecessary attention to the area where the small group of survivors from the 6th Guards Independent Breakthrough Tank Regiment were hidden away.

Fire consumed the cockpit within seconds, removing an doubt or guilt before it set in.

6th GIBTR now consisted of nine IS-IIIs in total, organised into two groups, one of five and one of four, plus an headquarters of two T-34s.

The now Captain Stelmakh commanded the larger group of heavy tanks, reflecting his position as the third senior rank within the ‘regiment’, and his growing reputation as an excellent tank commander and leader.

Two days beforehand, his Order of the Red Star and Order of Kutuzov 3rd Class were supplemented with the presentation of the Order of Suvurov 3rd class.

The young warrior who had once bemoaned his lack of decorations had, in a few months, become the most decorated officer in the regiment, something of which his unit and, in particular his crew, were extremely proud.

Fig # 221 - Soviet order of battle - Trendelburg.

Stelmakh returned to scanning the ground ahead of him, his binoculars picking out the advancing enemy tan…

‘They’ve stopped… the bastards have stopped…’

He tightened his grip as he saw another movement, this time slightly off to the right, and behind the leading force.

‘Their leader has sensed something.’

He looked into the sky, seeking answers amongst the whirling Allied aircraft, but found none, so he thought things through.

‘They don’t know we’re here… or they’d be attacking us.’

He picked up the handset to make a report, but checked himself as another of the fighter-bombers took hits from the mechanised units SPAA guns.

It simply exploded in mid-air less than a hundred feet above the ground, showering his concealed infantry with a deadly mixture of fast moving metal pieces and burning fuel.

Watching the horror unfold, he made his report.

“Cherepakha-krasniy-odin, Chorniy-odin, over.”

The major commanding 6th GIBTR responded immediately.

“I’ve seen it. Shit happens. Maintain silence. Out.”

The man had been with the 6th for less than a week, and already they knew that his combat experience was considerably more limited than his decorations indicated, and that the main contributions he brought to the unit were bluster and bullying.

“Cherepakha-krasniy-odin, Chorniy-odin, urgent situation report over.”

“Spit it out man, Krasniy-odin, over.”

“Chorniy-Odin, enemy force heading location Vosem has halted,” he gave the code for Trendelburg itself as he took another quick look at the new movement, “And another enemy force is flanking to the west, heading north to pass close to location Sem,” he swivelled to check the prominent height and seek out its defenders, but there was nothing to be seen.

And then, suddenly, there was.

“One moment… enemy force is definitely driving at location Sem… tanks and infantry, possibly battalion strength, Chorniy-Odin over.”

“Maintain fire discipline. Fire only on my order. Don’t panic, man. Krasniy-Odin, out.”

If the handset was not a vital piece of his equipment, Stelmakh might well have thrown it in the general direction of his commanding officer.

“Ukol!”

The chuckling gunner, Oleg Ferensky exchanged looks with his loader, before commenting on his commander’s language.

“Young ears, Kapitan, the Comrade Loader is blushing.”

Stelmakh dropped into the turret and silenced ‘Yuri’ Ferensky with a single look, sparing a second look for the tank’s oldest crewman, who appeared older than any two of them combined.

Lev Kalinov was a quiet and withdrawn man who claimed to be somewhere around thirty years of age, but who looked closer to fifty, as if life’s experiences had weighed heavily on his face, a face that sometimes seemed strangely familiar to Stelmakh, and a face that remained straight as he offered an observation to his tank commander.

“I agree, Comrade Kapitan. The man’s a total prick.”

Ferensky chuckled again, this time from behind his sights as he followed the leading enemy vehicles.

“Comrade Kapitan.”

The tone alone was enough, and Stelmakh emerged from the turret with his binoculars already on the way up.

The enemy were charging at Sem, the height west of Trendelburg.

‘Ukol.’

He had the thought before he picked up the handset once more and spoke to the ‘ukol’ in question. Stelmakh’s report to his commander was often interrupted and broken, as his words were punctuated by medium artillery dropping on Sem and in the valley beneath.

Taking Height 299, or location Sem as the Soviets called it, had always been part of the plan, which is why two companies of Europa’s panzer-grenadier battalion were set aside to storm it and secure it, backed up by anti-tank guns from the brigade’s panzer-jager company.

Another part of the plan was the artillery that lashed the height with high-explosives, and that now also dropped smoke along the right flank of the hurrying halftracks, completely obscuring them from Stelmakh’s gaze.

The small Soviet-held hill, completely stripped of its trees and bushes by man’s combative efforts, was quickly overrun, placing a German force immediately to Stelmakh’s right.

Von Hardegen split off two platoons from the main body and brought them up to support his small force, holding back the grenadier attack on Height 233 until they could move up and support.

Soviet mortars were hitting back at Height 299, but there was no sign of any other resistance to the west of the Diemel River.

On the east bank, things were different, as the sharp crack of tank cannon revealed.

Reports indicated that a handful of tanks and anti-tank guns on Stammen heights, overlooking Route 83, had opened fire from concealed positions, causing casualties amongst the leading elements.

Europa’s commander dismounted from his tank and left his Panther at the bottom of the slop, von Hardegen moved up a shallow trench and took up a position next to a rusting M-16 halftrack, long since stripped of anything remotely of use or value.

The commander of the grenadier force joined him in surveying the ground ahead of them.

No smoke screen obscured them now, and they examined the route to Trendelburg. Von Hardegen listened intently to the infantryman’s report that secondary explosions had been seen when the smoke shells descended.

“Mines?”

“I think so, Herr Oberst. Not large ones, but large enough to take a tyre or a track, I think.”

Von Hardegen hummed his response, and switched his attention to the German town that was the object of his attack, wherein, intelligence reported, the commanding officer and staff of the 1st Mechanised Corps were trapped.

Part of Plan Otto was constructed to ensure the enemy headquarters group remained trapped; the part that was now suppressing the Stammen Heights.

He could see one Jaguar burning brightly, and what might be a halftrack in a similar state, but apart from that, there seemed little price paid for the Stammen advance so far.

“We’ll stick to the plan as far as you are concerned, Hauptmann. Once the other kompagnie’s established on Height 299, with some of my tanks as baby sitters, I might reconsider… but for now, we stick with the plan. Klar?”

“Alles klar, Herr Oberst.”

The infantryman scuttled away to make sure his defences were organised, and that the AT guns were properly protected.

A whistle attracted von Hardegen’s attention, accompanied by frantic waving from his Panther turret.

He half tumbled, half ran back down the slope, and climbed back aboard his command tank.

“Herr Oberst,
Walküre
-six, urgent.”

He pulled on the throat mike and made contact with Fürth.

“Walküre-six, Wotan-six, come in, over.”

“Wotan-six, Walküre-six, phase three complete. Request permission to proceed with next phase, over.”

“Walküre-six, Wotan-six. Walküre-two will remain under my command. Proceed as planned. Wotan will support from 299. I will advise if moving. Confirm. Over.”

Lieutenant Colonel Fürth acknowledged the change and was gone, already initiating the next artillery barrage planned for ‘Otto’.

Von Hardegen watched as the elements on the east bank pushed hard up the valley, mirrored by forces to the west, both thrusts surging towards Trendelburg.