Breakthrough (The Red Gambit Series) (52 page)

New boy Kondrat was struck in the right shoulder as he emerged from the turret and immediately dropped inside, screaming as blood from a major vessel pumped over the interior of the tank.

Rakowski’s open fracture, exposed to the mine, was flayed by metal, severing the leg at the site of the wound and causing more damage all the way to the knee and beyond.

Only Czernin was unscathed, his quick reactions allowing him to use the
tank
as cover
.

Raising his head
,
he saw his senior crew members were beyond help, and that young Rakowski was mercifully still unconscious. Pulling
off
the boy’s belt, he fashioned a tourniquet to staunch the flow of blood.

The screaming in the tank had dropped to a low animal moan and he saw Kondrat hauling himself out of the vehicle, the covering of fresh blood making him seem almost demonic.

The fortuitous appearance of one of the infantry’s ambulances saved him moving, and he gesticulated at the orderlies, sending them to the tank first.

Reaching around and under his wounded comrade, Czernin staggered to his feet, surprised that the explosion
seemed to have
robbed him of his balance.

He took a moment to steady himself and draw a deep breath before picking up Rakowski, surprisingly lighter than he expected until his mind factored in the missing part.

Clutching the
badly
wounded boy to him, the veteran Sergeant carried him towards the waiting ambulance.

Click.

Leaving behind his two running mates, Acting Senior Lieutenant Stelmakh acted on a hunch.

The enemy forces to his front had withdrawn to holding positions and hunkered down, not even engaging his small force.

Artillery started to fall and he reoriented his unit to avoid further loss.

He could only guess that a flanking movement was in progress. Communicating with
Kapitan
Evanin, he received
permi
s
sion to
investigate, as well as the welcome news that his commander would send one of his own tanks back to help.

Ordering a squad of the accompanying infantry to board ‘Krasny Suka’, he moved back down Cuxhavener Straße into Heitmanshausen and turned northwards to cover the road from Jork.

As he found a suitable position
,
Stelmakh was surprised to find one of the 3rd/47th Mechanised’s 76mm anti-tank guns arrive, complete with a T34
,
and a full platoon
and headquarters group
from the
3rd Battalion, 66th Engineers.

The Kapitan in charge sought the tank commander out.

“Greetings
,
Comrade Mladshy Leytenant,” Stelmakh’s temporary rank not apparent to the engineer, “
Onipchenko
..
.”

His brief introduction was
cut short
by a coughing fit, during which the Engineer Captain extracted his map and spread it on the turret roof.

Stelmakh’s quizzical look drew a response.

“September 43, Germanski bullet in the lung, Comrade, liberation of
Bryansk
.”

The younger man could only nod in acknowledgement as Onipchenko looked down at the map, orienting himself quickly.

“
Command structure is shot
,
Comrade. Enemy aircraft have hurt us badly.
General Skorniakov is wounded and out of the fight. Colonels
Polunin and Rumyantsev
are dead.
I
t falls to my Brigade commander to sort this mess so,” he found what he was looking for, “Colonel Khozin has decided that we will envelop the enemy force.”

The engineer swiftly indicated two lines of advance drawn in red on his map.

“This axis is aimed firstly at Bargestadt and Harsefeld, part of that force will then head northwards
.”

Using both hands
,
he described a classic pincer movement.

“Our force will move up to Jork and then push hard towards Stade.”

Steklmakh’s obvious comment died on his lips as the coughing started again. He waited but Onipchenko anticipated the tanker’s objections.

“More units are coming
,
Comrade Mladshy Leytenant. We have been sent here to get things moving but there will be
more on the ground
to come, plus artillery and guards mortars in time.”

Stelmakh nodded.

‘Fair enough’.

“Nothing tricky here
,
Comrade. Your tank is our ace if we come across enemy heavy armour
, I
will
have
the rest of my battalion and
two
companies
of
Tridsat
Chetverkas
here within ten minutes
,
but we are not to wait
,
Comrade.”

He looked across at the only other tank present, a worn
and battered
T34 bearing the name of a distant battleground.

“Our comrades in
‘Polotsk’ can lead the way with the main force until our armoured cars arrive. We will
advance
quickly
,
and in close order
,
until I say otherwise
,
Comrade.”

Again, Onipchenko prescribed the route of advance, singling out the separate route he expected the IS-III and its support units to take.

“Are you ready to move
,
Comrade?”

“Immediately, Comrade Kapitan.”

“Good, then drop in behind the lead elements and let us find the enemy together.”

A swift salute and the man was gone, shouting at
his
men
,
as he headed to the T34 to issue a similar brief.

Three minutes later the
small
battle group
started to move off
in the direction of unoccupied
Jork.

Both sides hammered away at each other with artillery,
causing casualties, yet
both sides
were
unaware that the emphasis had switched to a number of insignificant tracks north of
Nottensdorf
.

That was about to change.

The Sergeant in charge of ‘Polotsk’ was less than happy to be placed at the lead of the column.

His nerve was placed under more and more pressure, the nearer his tank got to the crossroads at Westerladekop
, his jitters transferring to his crew and unsettling them all.

In fairness, they had been through hell in the last two weeks, subjected to allied air raids, artillery, even shelling from some Allied naval vessels inshore.

This first taste of ground combat since they had overcome the Germans pushed their resilience to the limit, and in the case of the Sergeant, beyond.

“Pull off the road and stop! Stop the tank!”

The driver did as he was ordered, although he was puzzled at the instruction, especially as ‘Polotsk’ was still about a kilometre from the turning.

“Engine off.”

Again he obeyed
,
but
now
he understood that the Sergeant’s nerve was completely gone now.

Standing clear in the turret the frightened
Sergeant
had sufficient composure to wave the following vehicles past, shouting at an enquiring Lieutenant
about
how the engine had given up.

The lead elements of the
Soviet
advance ground past until Stelmakh’s IS-III drew level and dropped off the road
in front of
the silent T34.

In an instant, the young officer was out and boarding the other tank, suddenly aware that something was not right.

The squad of infantrymen remained huddled on the hull of the heavy tank, watching
impassively;
just thankful that whatever it was would keep them from the maelstrom for a few minutes longer.

The sounds of whispered voices arguing rose to meet
the tank officer as he climbed aboard the T34.

“Stelmakh here. What’s going on lads?”

He wasn’t prepared for the response.

“Fuck off
,
you child. Go and play with the British.”

Taking the briefest of moment’s to decide
how to proceed
, he took the plunge.

“Starshy Leytenant Stelmakh here. Give me your report. Why have you stopped here?”

“Tank’s fucked Comrade. We will have a look at it shortly
,
Sir.”

“Let us look at it together…now
, Comrade?
”
Vladimir
’s
tone not betraying
his nervousness
.

“Sergeant
Chelpanov
.”

“Comrade Sergeant
Chelpanov
. Now.”

The Sergeant rose from the turret, straight into the barrel of Stelmakh’s
Tokarev
automatic.

“Now
, now,
Comrade Leytenant, no need for that.”

“I will decide that, Comrade Sergeant. Now, what appears to be the problem?”

“Engine gave out
,
Comrade.”

“Get
the grills
open and we shall see.”

The moment the young officer had
produced
his pistol, his own crew had sprung into action, and the watching tank riders started to get more interested in events.

The
IS-III
gunners had stayed in place, watching to their front
,
in case the enemy decided to interfere, whilst
Corporal Stepanov had armed himself with a
PPD
and moved to support Stelmakh.
Three of the infantry squad dropped casually to the earth and moved to back
up
Stepanov.

Stood at the front of the tank, but out of the arc of the hull machine gun, Stepanov spoke loudly, so he could be heard by all.

“Problem, Comrade Starshy Leytenant?”

“It appears our comrades have a
n
issue
with their engine
,
Comrade Kaporal. We shall help.”

Stelmakh intended to say more but picked up on a
hand
signal from his driver.

Stepanov tapped on the driver’s position, the large hatch folding outwards immediately, exposing the face of
a clearly
worried
tanker.

“Start your tank
,
Comrade
Driver
.”

The engine turned over without the merest
suspicion
of firing up.

“Excellent effort. Now Comrade,” his eyebrows adopted the position of a school teacher making a final attempt to deliver a vital lesson, “Let’s try it
with the fuel switches on.”

The look from the driver confirmed Stepanov’s suspicions, and when the 12 cylinder diesel engine roared into life there was no more to be said.

The Sergeant
and his crew
knew
their
lives
were
forfeit.

Stepa
nov looked at his fellow tanker, maintaining a neutral expression.
“
These eng
ines can be very
temperamental
,
Comrade
Driver.
An air lock perhaps? Something lodged in the filter for a moment?
”

A squad of heavily armed engineers drew up alongside, an old and experienced Starshina quickly stepping out.

“Comrades, can we help?”

Stelmakh straightened, his rank suddenly apparent, the
Starshina saluting impressively, also now aware that the tank officer was holding his automatic.