Opening Moves

Haefeli switched to his own troops, the second operator issuing his Commander’s orders for the advance, increasing the pace on the main road but putting troops on the myriad of small tracks that were a feature of the route to the Haut-Kœnigsbourg.

The jeep at the point disappeared around the tight left hand bend ahead, reporting the road clear but sounds of heavy fighting coming from the Château above.

Increased firing and the low crump of exploding mortar shells from the 2e Compagnie area informed Lavalle that Lieutenant Mardin had got his attack underway.

A brief radio message from the point vehicle confirmed no problems ahead and the command track pressed on in response, following the hairpin bend all the way round as the road rose unerringly towards the Château.

Haefeli listened to a situation report from the now totally calm Mardin, content that the younger man was rising to the challenge.

Ahead of his halftrack, other vehicles of the company were fanning out into a small clearing as directed by the hand signals of the NCO in the point jeep. Lavalle spotted a dismounted Sous-Lieutenant signalling at a tree beside the road and his eyes followed the man’s frantic gestures.

In the early dawn light he didn’t quite believe what he saw, even when a yellowflare rose from the Château and illustrated the gruesome tableau.

He shouted an order to the driver to push forward, keen to get a closer look.

Haefeli, checking off Mardin’s report against a map looked up, startled by the urgency in the Colonel’s voice.

He followed Lavalle’s gaze and was himself similarly incredulous at the sight that was looming large as the command track gained on the point jeep and its shattering discovery.

The radio again barked into life, Mardin’s operator calling in information.

“Achille-Zero-One, Isabella-Three-One calling. Enemy identified.”

Haefeli looked at the two bodies, battered and broken, hanging from the tree to the left of the road.

Exchanging looks with Lavalle, he heard Mardin’s voice deliver confirmation to the evidence of his own eyes.

“Achille-Zero-One, Isabella-Three-One calling. Enemy are Russian paratroopers, confirm Russian paratroopers, over.”

The uniform was unfamiliar to both officers, although the two entwined parachutes which had been the cause of the young men’s deaths, were obvious even to the uninitiated. None the less, each man possessed a PPSH sub-machine gun, a weapon synonymous with the Red Army.

Haefeli’s operator automatically acknowledged the information and the radio fell silent.

Despite the years of experience, both officers were stunned, minds processing the ramifications of the message and the proof dangling before their eyes.

“Albi, send it in clear and keep sending it. Get the warning out. Russian paratroopers attacking Haut-Kœnigsbourg area. Unknown strength.”

The operator heard and was sending the grim news before Lavalle’s next set of orders formed on his lips.

“Well whatever they are doing here is obviously important to them. Albi, get your men moving fast. Advance to contact with a priority to get to the Château as quickly as possible. We will need Mardin too, once he has sorted his own problems out.”

Haefeli passed orders to the second operator, who sent them on to 2e Compagnie’s newest commander as 3e Compagnie picked up the pace and closed on their new enemy.

0555 hrs Monday, 6th August 1945, Château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg, French Alsace.

In the Château, Makarenko was having problems with his attack. The thrust up the stairs into the lower courtyard was decimating his troops without great result, the defenders holding firm at the final threshold.

His own plan to push up through the north route to the Great Bastion had met with early success until the lead section had been flayed in the choke point between the wall and the square projection of the living quarters.

Those eight men, plus another six, lay dead and dying in that small area, but his troopers had forced the path, killing the handful of French commandos who had barred the way.

The new point section was decimated as they neared the doorway in the bottom of the round tower, north section of the Greater Bastion.

His leading men had taken cover in returns in both the Upper Garden wall and the North outer wall, pinned down by accurate rifle and light machine gun fire.

He risked a glance around the corner of the stonework.

The increasing light of dawn would make the job all the harder on his men and he was also aware that time was not on his side, the sound of firing from outside the Château all too obvious.

The group concealed behind the Northern wall return were looking around them, seeking alternatives and options.

Makarenko watched as an old Sergeant gestured to two of his men, both of whom carried grapnels.

On his orders they launched themselves from cover at speed, hoping to gain the wall on the other side of the killing zone before the defenders could bring them down, aided by covering fire from the NCO’s PPSH.