Breakthrough (The Red Gambit Series) (19 page)

Beck, embittered by his public humiliation, crowed long and hard when
Olbricht was executed by firing squad
, payback
for his part in the failed assassination attempt of 20th July 1944.

Commanding his unit in defence of the town had not been particularly challenging, more a question of standing fast as the Russian wave bro
ke over him. R
elic of a bygone age he may have been
,
but he was
a man of great courage
, a fact attested to b
y several G
reat War decorations.

As the Russian barrage grew in intensity
,
he moved forward and observed
Soviet
infantrymen and armour massing
on the outskirts of Tostedt. H
e recognised the danger immediately.

‘If the Canadians
are
not in position now
,
then G
od help them’
,
he mused.

Calling his second in command to him, Beck
told the man that there was no point now in remaining in situ and
instructed the former Luftwaffe Artillerie Captain to evacuate all but the first section immediately, the first section being formed of the older men who had served their rifle time in
Flanders
fields.

They would buy as much time as possible for the unit to withdraw.

The man saluted and scurried away.

A she
ll landed nearby and the screams of the dying immediately filled the air. An elderly medic rushed over to do what he could. Normally the local doctor, the
medic
had once been a Major in Füsilier-Regiment 80 ‘Von Gersdorff’
,
and had served at
Verdun
, the Somme and the
Aisne
. His intimate knowledge of shrapnel wounds
,
combined with his medical
experience
,
enabled him to understand that all five men were beyond help. Easing the pain of the two men remaining semi-conscious
,
he moved on to where the
Soviet
artillery was providing
him with
more work.

Moving further forward
,
Beck entered a large house on the edge of Wistedt, once the home of the local apothecary.

He
settled
in alongside the man with the binoculars, waiting until the NCO finished scanning the enemy positions.

“Well, Hüth?
Are the Garde-Füsiliers ready for the enemy?”

The former Hauptfeldwebel of the 3rd Garde-Infanterie Division was used to the baiting, as he and his
three
comrades had endured it most evenings
in the bierkeller
,
when
war stories
and tall tales
flowed as freely as the chilled Beck’s.

“We will hold until we are relieved of course
,
Herr Oberst.”

The man relaxed the binoculars and looked at the Kommandofuhrer, the resignation on his face at odds with the weak attempt at humour.

“Mind you
,
Herr Beck, I rather suspect our communist enemy has a different end in mind for us.”

He coughed violently and spat a gobbet
of bloody phlegm
against the wall, wheezing as he often did when the
lasting effects of his
exposure to French gas
made themselves known

“I have ordered everyone back
,
except first section.”

Hüth turned to look at
B
eck and nodded gently. Neither he nor his fellow ex-Garde needed
further explanation
.

Turning back to the window
,
he spoke rapidly, pausing only to duck involuntarily when a shell landed particularly close.

“We have tanks and infantry on either flank, and they don’t seem
positioned
to attack us
at the moment
.”

“Yes
.
I saw them from back there a few minutes ago.”

“Still building up, as I see it.
Here.”

Hüth handed the binoculars over
,
indicating
where Beck should look.

Tanks and infantry
were
gathering on both flanks of Tostedt, seemingly oriented to by-pass their position.
Beck
calmly
noted that there were many more than he first thought.

“Well
,
we can’t do anything about them
,
Hüth
. H
owever,”
sweeping along the landscape he stopped and focussed
on the area directly opposite
,
“I do believe that they are not intending to leave us alone
after all
.”

His eye had caught movement
,
and he passed the binoculars back
.

“At the railway track there
.”

Hüth’s
eyes were still keen and he swept the line of the railway
that
prescribed the edge of the town. He could see numerous helmets and other signs
betraying
the presence of Russian inf
antry forming behind the slight
rise of the tracks.

Soviet
mortar rounds started to drop around the Apothecary’s house
,
and the occasional lump of metal pinged off the brickwork or embedded itself in something softer. Adler, the oldest of the Garde
,
received three small pieces as he went to grab more stick grenades. Bleeding profusely from his buttocks
,
he was tended to by one of his comrades
,
but wasn’t spared from the man’s heavy-handed
humour.

Such wounds attracted such humour.

A mortar shell struck an old Citroen lying wrecked in front of their position, causing it to burst into flames

Hüth
carefully raised himself up and nestled
the binoculars back in position to check the enemy.

At the very bottom of his vision, from a position halfway between Tostedt and Wistedt
,
t
he
old NCO
saw
a
flash next to
B
remer
Stra
β
e and knew what it was imme
diately.

It was a sniper firing.

Beck was beh
ind and to the right and the reflection of the fire on his monocle was all the sniper
had
needed for an instinctive shot.

It was a few moments before Beck realised that he had been lucky. The bullet had passed
down the right side of his face, clipping
a perfect U section out of his ear
,
before destroying an extremely large and valuable
piece of
Meissen
porcelain
on the dresser behind.
Everyone in the room jumped when the vase disintegrated, not realising the reason for its destruction.

Dœring-Beck
looked back to the front a
nd felt the pain in his ear. He
slapped his hand to the wound as the blood started to flow.

The second bullet caught him in the side of the jaw, removing half his face
from
chin
to eye socket.

The elderly man dropped to the ground, temporarily paralysed by the pain and shock, bleeding his life out.

Adler, bandaged and angry
with pain
, rolled across the floor and tried to reassemble the awful wound so he could bandage it.

The screaming started,
the
awful high-pitched squeals of a man in the extremis of suffering.

Beck had broken his left arm as he fell and his right scrabbled for his weapon, seeking the butt of his MP40 sub-machine gun.

Hüth understood immediately
,
and ordered Adler to move back.

What the sniper had starte
d
,
he finished with one shot from h
is Kar98k, putting a merciful end to
old
Beck’s torment.

A shout from one
of the others
prevented him from pondering
his
horror at the necessary deed.

The Russians were moving up on both flanks. Mortars were now dropping smoke in front of Wistedt
,
so it was most likely that infantry were already closing in upon them. The bonus of it was that the sniper’s
line of sight
was now masked.

Quickly moving out of the Apothecary’s
residence,
Hüth checked with those members of first section on either side, ensuring the order spread to all
twenty-six
men who now defended Wistedt. And the order was simple.

Stand and fight.

Returning to his own
position,
he checked the machine-gun crew in the bedroom were ready, dropping off the last of the ammunition he had grabbed from the section stockpile.
It was an old First World War MG.08
,
but it could still do its job and kill.

A mortar shell hit the corner of the house and a new hole opened up, providing an improved firing position for the NCO
.
H
e occupied i
t as soon as the rubble settled, gathering up grenades and his former commander
’
s sub-machine gun.

He heard the Russian ‘Ur
rah’ as the infantry surged forward
,
and he shouted out to his men to fire as soon as they saw a target.

The smoke was clearing slowly as the mort
ar crews had
changed
to HE only
and
shifted aim
to Wistedt itself, seeking out the defenders.

The .08 opened up, its 7.9mm bullets pumping out at
four hundred
rounds per minute, dealing death to the first Russians through the
thinning
smoke. The crew had to be careful and nurse the machine-gun
,
as its water coolant jacket leaked profusely
, requiring
the loader to fill it
with water f
rom a number of old beer bottles laid out specifically for the purpose.

Hüth could not yet see a target
,
but he could hear the effects of the
machine-gun
firing from
upstairs
,
as the sounds of men in pain reached his ears. Seeing a blur
in the smoke
,
he threw a hand grenade
and was rewarded with the sight of one of his enemies being propelled forward by the blast. The man l
anded and bounced forward like a child’s doll, l
y
ing
still, never to rise again. Three others had b
een wounded by the same grenade
,
and their screams joined the rising sound of battle.

The Russian infantry did not lack courage and plunged on, even when another grenade extracted a similar price from the assault group.

Rifle fire now erupted as the
last of the smoke disappeared in an instant, enabling
all the defenders
to
engage.

Enemy soldiers
dropped to the ground, some hit, others to seek cover. The MG continued its deadly work, steaming as it was when water was poured into the jacket at regular intervals.

Adler was dead already, a victim of one of the attacking units covering DP machine guns
,
which
were being increasingly effective.

The
Soviet
infantry were chivvied to their feet by a young Lieutenant
,
who led them forward. Hüth dropped him with his first shot
,
but the impetus of the attack did not falter.

One
Soviet
sergeant threw a grenade at the MG team
on the first floor
. It landed amongst the bottles
,
where it exploded, adding
a thousand
lethal
shards of glass to the shrapnel
that
cut the men to ribbons
,
and silenced the .08 permanently.