Initiative (The Red Gambit Series Book 6) (30 page)

He yelled at his gunner.

“Target tank, left four, range seven hundred, hit them in the water… hit them in the water!”

He switched to divisional net and made his report.

“Anton, Anton, Ritter-one-four priority one. Enemy tanks crossing the river at…” he checked the map and reeled off the reference quickly, returning his eyes to the spectacle of medium tanks driving over water.

“At least four, I repeat, four underwater bridges in place. Enemy forming for a counter-attack. Need urgent orders and reinforcements, Ritter-one-four, over.”

Nineteen T34s of 510th Separate Tank Regiment swept up to and over the river, descended quickly upon the savaged remnants of the amphibious unit, and sent men and machines to hell in a deluge of metal.

Behind them, a dozen IS-IIs of the 771st Heavy Tank Regiment, early models reclaimed from the Polish Army, moved out into the open, intent on following the T34s across the river.

One smoking tank sat, seemingly floating on the surface of the Fulda, where the King Tiger’s gunner had picked him off, the crewmen similarly appearing to run on water, as they escaped the inevitable second killing shot.

Laurenz went for the radio again.

“Anton, Ant…”

The world went red… orange… white… there was even a purple of sorts.

His mind failed to comprehend the situation as it struggled to complete the important task, not realising that a 130mm armour piercing had taken the lives of two of his crew, scattering their body parts and sharp metal throughout the interior.

Laurenz continued to speak into the microphone as the hatch beside him sprung open and his loader, decorated with the detritus of the hull gunner and driver, garnished with urine and faeces where the huge impact had loosened the man’s bodily control.

The loader rolled into the rear compartment, squealing with shock and terror, adding to the surreal feelings in Laurenz’s mind.

He continued to report the appearance of the Soviet heavy tanks, without comprehending that no-one could hear him, and that parts of the radio set were now embedded in his stomach.

The gunner, resembling something medieval and malevolent, emerged next, his cheek laid open by something sharp, exposing the ivory bone of his jaw.

He shouted as best he could, but his words fell on ears controlled by a distant mind.

He kicked the loader.

“Give me a hand for god’s sake!”

The action of his mouth caused blood to pulse from the open wound and triggered severe pain.

The loader looked vacant and the gunner knew he was on his own… and he also knew he had little time.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he placed his arms around the exposed upper body of his commander and pulled.

Laurenz came up and out much more easily than he had anticipated, probably because the tank commander was much lighter.

His left leg was missing its foot, and his right leg was gone from just above the knee, with both thighs smashed and bloody.

Even as he was dragged across the rear deck, Laurenz continued to send his full report over a radio net that only existed in his shocked mind, until blood loss claimed his conscious thoughts and he departed to a darker place.

Meanwhile, his killer moved closer.

On the ridge, whilst Laurenz and his tank were both still intact, the 4
e
RACE engaged.

The X-7 Rotkäppchen was an ugly beast, but troop trials in the latter stages of the previous conflict had shown that, in skilled hands, it could take out anything on the battlefield.

Provided the operator was on the top of his game.

The Legionnaire, once Oberscharfuhrer Peters of SS-Kampfgruppe Dora-III, and considered a master of his craft, waited as the mobile launcher was moved forward, clearing the undergrowth in which the unit had concealed itself.

From the moment the rocket left its cradle, Peters would have roughly seven seconds to make the corrections to the wire-guided missile’s flight and bring it into contact with his chosen target; the lead IS-II.

Accelerating quickly, the X-7 Rotkäppchen’s speed rose to over one hundred yards a second.

Peters realised he had missed his initial target so, calmly, made the smallest of corrections, sending a signal down the guiding wires.

The tail fins acknowledged, altering the course sufficiently to hit the third heavy tank in line.

The small rocket packed a powerful punch, and the penetrative ability of the hollow-charge warhead exceeded the thickness of the IS-II’s armour by some considerable amount.

One other X-7 struck home from the first volley, two more going off elsewhere, seemingly with minds of their own.

No sooner had the rocket left its cradle, than the support crew grabbed the wooden frame and set a new X-7 in place, attaching more cabling, and finally pushing the whole assembly back into place.

By the time the well-drilled crew had completed the task, nearly a minute had passed, during which time the Soviet armour swept closer.

A single T34 came apart spectacularly, as the 75mm Pak penetrated the medium tank’s hull armour, setting off ammunition in its passage through the compartment.

Some of the surviving amphibious troops caused distraction, but, in the main, the ridge ahead became the focus of the Soviet drive.

The concept had been to lure the Allied force into overcommitting at Hann Münden, trying to cramp the advance with stiff resistance.

It might have succeeded, but for the astonishing successes in the defence of Wilhelmshausen, and the unforeseen attempt to cross the river directly in front of the underwater bridges and the secreted Soviet tanks and infantry, east of the Fulda River.

The Red Army tankers pressed home their attack, intent on driving up the ridge and severing Route 3233.

Preparing to send his fourth rocket down the hill, Peters suddenly jumped as something moved at the very edge of his peripheral vision.

The IS-IV had slipped out of sight once Laurenz’s tank had been silenced, and had also slipped from the consciousness of the rocket operators, each assuming another had destroyed the threat.

The threat in question manifested itself once more, having crept up a tree-lined track that ran parallel to Route 40.

Shouting at the others, Peters waved his hands, sending signals about the new target.

The two crewmen leapt forward and repositioned the rocket so it was pointing roughly at the huge enemy tank.

The flight was brief.

It was also unsuccessful.

The trailing control wire snagged on a low bush and parted, pulling the X-7 sufficiently to the left to ensure a miss, the smoky trail serving only to mark out where the shot had come from.

Attempting to recover the trolley, the two crewmen were both wounded by a burst of machine-gun fire, which also rendered the mount unusable.

Both men rolled away as best they could, fully expecting the follow-up shell that swiftly arrived and turned the wheeled wooden mount into splinters no bigger than matches.

Neither of them had managed to roll away far enough from the monster shell, and both received more wounds in the process.

Peters dropped back into cover, hoping the hedge would save his life. Despite the hopelessness of the task, he took a firm hold of his Walther pistol and waited to see what the IS-IV did.

What it did was surprise him by staying put.

The act was forced upon the leviathan as a Legion AP shell struck the front idler and separated the track in a spectacular display of sparks and flying pieces of metal.

Peters looked around him as best he could, and saw evidence of friendly armour on the field of battle, albeit the nearest of which was a smoking Panzer IV chassis, whose unrecognisable upper works lay behind it, where the impact of a 122mm shell had deposited it, by weight of shell alone.

The sound of tank cannon rolled over the battlefield, as Legion armour arrived to blunt the Soviet advance.

Uhlmann had dispatched part of his own 1
er
CDA back to come into the northern flank of the thrust, and sent seven AFVs from the 1st Bataillon Anti-chars Lourde to protect the direct route to the important road.

It was the first major combat for the new SPATs, and great hopes rested on the three Schwarzjagdpanthers, the upgunned production version of the Jagdpanther, kitted out with the lethal 128mm gun and increased armour protection.

It differed from the Einhorn because it possessed the new drive train, whereas the Einhorn used the older Maybach engine and had no transmission revisions. The Einhorn’s engine was placed under greater stress, with the additional weight of the heavier gun and applique armour, potentially increasing reliability issues and reducing speed. However, the payoff of survivability and greater killing power had tantalised the Legion, and the handful of Einhorns were considered to be amongst its most potent weapons.

However, the brand new Schwarzjagdpanthers were a cut above even them, outperforming the old but excellent field conversion Jagdpanther in all departments.

The surviving two Alligators engaged the T34s immediately, scoring hit after hit, although not every hit resulted in a kill.

The Schwarzjagdpanthers took on the IS-IIs and halted the heavy tanks in their tracks, sometimes literally.

The 128mm shells were more than capable of penetrating the thickest of the IS-IIs defensive armour, and the attacking Soviet tanks started to fall back as more of their number were smashed to a halt.

Some crews even abandoned their vehicles without attempting to withdraw, their morale suddenly broken by the new arrivals and the sights of battle around them.

Peters screamed and screamed at the nearest tank, or more accurately the commander of the Schwarzjagdpanther, who had his head out to survey the battlefield, but who was unable to hear the words of warning.

The IS-IV stopped and made the minutest of adjustments, before sending a 130mm shell smashing into the side of the SPAT.

The impact scattered the road wheels and severed the track at top and bottom points, rendering the vehicle immovable.

Abandoning their crippled vehicle, the slowness of the IS-IVs reload saved the panzerjager crew further wounds, although the turret machine gun sped them on their way as they quickly sought cover.