Opening Moves

No time for further reflection, Fairbairn-Banks turned over the battle to the young Major commanding the twelve concealed Achilles tank destroyers, suitably arranged to cover their intended killing grounds around the bridges.

Some of the IS-II’s were firing big HE rounds at his infantry and obviously causing casualties. A panzerfaust leapt from underneath the Horsdorf Bridge, detonating against the turret side of the least cautious member of third company.

Apart from a scorch mark on the turret, the vehicle seemed none the worse but took no further part in the battle, the crew placed beyond the skills of the surgeons already snowed under with wounded carried back to their aid station.

First company took the bridge steadily as infantry cleared the tenacious defenders from its environs, rushing over the wooden structure in support of the tanks. Many fell, victims of grazing fire from the no longer subdued machine-guns.

Those who made it across the bridge fell headlong into a position manned with Germans dressed in all manner of attire, wielding weapons from bayonets to medieval broadswords taken from the nearby Schloss. The slaughter was atrocious, hands clutching at throats, fingers gouging out eyes, the blood, faeces, urine and bile of the dead mixing with the vomit of the living as a hundred men became feral beasts in the name of self-preservation.

The fighting was so intense that no-one paid any attention to the heavy crack of big guns and the resultant clangs as missiles burrowed into metal and converted expensive killing machines into just so much scrap metal.

The young Major had timed his shoot well, waiting until most of First Company was across the bridge and the second company had turned side on to follow them. As a bonus, third company had their field of fire reduced by their living and dead comrades.

Only one IS-II of First Company was still in full running order. A PIAT shell struck the leviathan but it shrugged the hit off, slaying the British AT gunners as they desperately reloaded. Exerting more than enough pressure on an anti-tank mine, the right track flopped uselessly away and the crippled beast slewed to the right, exposing its left side to a second round of shots. Five were targeted upon the IS-II and the nearby British infantry had a first-class view of a real tank brew-up, so much so that the heat forced them to relocate, at the cost of several wounded from vengeful Soviet infantry.

Second company had lost four tanks, although one of those could still fire.

The 17-pdr’s of the Achilles were a weapon to be feared and more shells rode the battlefield in search of victims.

The 27th was an experienced formation but even these men could not stand such losses and the survivors turned to run, creating what smoke they could and carving a bloody trail through the infantry that had naturally migrated to them for safety.

Having had the satisfaction of watching the lone Soviet spotter crash in flames after the attentions of a De Havilland Mosquito hunting party, the relocated HAC gunners set up their artillery as quickly as they could and reported in their readiness to join the fray again.

The observer had a nice plum target ready and waiting.

Shvpaghin watched silently, bereft of any emotion save total shock. His eyes saw but did not understand, the visuals of the destruction of his command not digested until he was shaken from his doldrums by the arrival of accurate artillery on his infantry reserve, all nicely laid out in trucks for the killing.

As the two battalions were butchered and more of the retreating IS-II’s fell victim to whatever monster guns the British were using, he became aware of his second in command approaching grim faced.

Not taking his face away from the continuing slaughter in front of him, he merely requested the officer’s report.

“Comrade General Gusev orders you to his headquarters immediately Comrade Colonel.”

Shvpaghin turned to his subordinate, with whom he had served since the early days.

“And what else Alexander?”

“I am to place you under arrest and relieve you of your weapon.”

“I see.” He turned back to face his destroyed division, now strangely calm, assessing perhaps 60%, or even 70% casualties in men and all but two IS-II’s immolated.

“So, what will you do Comrade”, his eyes glued to the binoculars he was now using to cover his tears. Tears not for himself but for the men he had led for so long.

“I will come back in a little while my friend.”

Shvpaghin nodded gently and turned to shake the hand of the man who was his friend.

No words came. No words were necessary.

The Colonel turned back for one last look at his command and saw Major Banov, bloodied and dirty, staggering back up the road.

‘Another of the old team’ thought Shvpaghin and he saluted the apparition smartly, which salute was returned as best as the severely wounded Major could accomplish.