Opening Moves

Both sides had scored hits and Serov had to concede that the American gunnery had been better, four ISU’s and three IS-II’s lost in the exchange. His vision was obscured but at least five distinct columns of smoke rose from where the US tanks had stood to exchange shots.

That increased to seven in one second as the remaining two companies of the 11th Guards Heavy Tank Regiment arrived on the flank of the defending armour.

The Colonel expected the defenders to withdraw and turned his attention elsewhere.

Reports from Penal Company Zin placed them on the outskirts of Deiselberg. Mentally correcting himself, Serov reduced Zin from a company to about a full platoon strength. According to reports, Zin’s unit had suffered horrendously at the hands of the automatic AA weapons they faced on the plain.

14th Guards Sappers had taken full control of Trendelburg and he had not been able to contain his relief that Chekov had survived the battle.

1st Battalion of the 1323rd Rifles had been hit very hard and was being pulled back into the east bank part of Trendelburg to sort itself out as best it could.

2nd and 3rd Battalions had pushed hard and dislodged the defenders from their positions in the woods, and pressed them back beyond Saurenthal. Two units of Germans, more militia than proper soldiers, had been the very devil to shift and many of his men had been killed in the wooded valley to the east of Trendelburg.

The 2nd Battalion of the Guards Motorcyclists had taken Friedrichsfeld without loss earlier and had been bolstered by the recent arrival of the 3rd Battalion.

The 7th’s Bridging Engineer officer had saved himself just in time, but had been presented with a new problem as the last IS-II from A Company had partially collapsed the bridge. Efforts were in progress to extricate the forty-five tons of Soviet heavy tank from the structure and effect repairs.

Ever the martinet, Serov had no intention of letting up on the unfortunate Kapitan, even though the Trendelburg Bridge was safely in friendly hands.

He smiled at that thought, but the smile disappeared as quickly as it arrived when he remembered the first casualty reports from the scene. He had ordered Chekov’s battered company back to the relative safety of Stammen, partially to ease their burden but partially so he did not have to look Chekov in the eye this day. His Leytenant had asked how many trucks would be needed.

The answer had said a great deal.

One.

‘Not this day,’ Serov repeated to himself, imagining the pain present in the younger man.

Another report from the 1323rd’s senior medical officer stated that a casualty station had been established near the burning Rapunzel Tower and that it was already overflowing with wounded.

Serov had radioed back for more medical assets and was surprised to receive them without having to fight for them.

It had been the same when he had requested more infantry reinforcements. 22nd Penal Company was already on the field and there were more troops coming.

Clearly, the Army Commander was a happy man.

“Time to move. Five minutes Comrades.”

A sudden flurry of activity showed he had been heard and understood.

“Kapitan Fleurov, contact 14th Guards and request a suitable location for us to set up in the town and secure directions.”

The Kapitan saluted and changed direction smoothly.

The Colonel sauntered off to the rear overlooking Stammer and sampled one of his stash of captured American cigarettes as his staff broke down the mobile HQ.

Enjoying the cigarette away from the hubbub of command, he closed his eyes and dreamt of himself at home with his wife, playing his accordion as she sung her songs. Startling himself from his reverie, he checked his watch. According to his calculations, he had run slightly over the five minutes so expected his staff to be ready when he walked back.

He became aware of the dull insistent ache and his brain reminded him that his bladder only had so much capacity.

In the time honoured tradition of man regardless of nationality, he sought a convenient spot to relieve himself and located a patch of scrub just off to his left.

Manoeuvring his trousers as needed, he let relief flood over him.

The ecstasy of the moment was interrupted.

“Sonofabitch!”

He looked down into the scrub in time to see a bayonet thrust upwards and stop just short of his pride and joy, whilst another hand holding a pistol emerged, attached to an indistinct shape in the undergrowth.

No words were necessary and he moved as directed by the waved directions of the pistol, rounding the scrub and finding himself in the middle of about twenty American soldiers.

‘I will have Haganski’s hide for this,’ he thought, failing to appreciate his predicament.

There was muted conversation amongst his captors but nothing that seemed threatening.

The large soldier, ‘was he a Sergeant?’ spoke to two others whilst the majority of the Americans kept their eyes firmly on his headquarters group.