Such wounds attracted such humour.
A mortar shell struck an old Citroen lying wrecked in front of their position, causing it to burst into flames
Hüth carefully raised himself up and nestled the binoculars back in position to check the enemy.
At the very bottom of his vision, from a position halfway between Tostedt and Wistedt, the old NCO saw a flash next to Bremer Straβe and knew what it was immediately.
It was a sniper firing.
Beck was behind and to the right and the reflection of the fire on his monocle was all the sniper had needed for an instinctive shot.
It was a few moments before Beck realised that he had been lucky. The bullet had passed down the right side of his face, clipping a perfect U section out of his ear, before destroying an extremely large and valuable piece of Meissen porcelain on the dresser behind. Everyone in the room jumped when the vase disintegrated, not realising the reason for its destruction.
Dœring-Beck looked back to the front and felt the pain in his ear. He slapped his hand to the wound as the blood started to flow.
The second bullet caught him in the side of the jaw, removing half his face from chin to eye socket.
The elderly man dropped to the ground, temporarily paralysed by the pain and shock, bleeding his life out.
Adler, bandaged and angry with pain, rolled across the floor and tried to reassemble the awful wound so he could bandage it.
The screaming started, the awful high-pitched squeals of a man in the extremis of suffering.
Beck had broken his left arm as he fell and his right scrabbled for his weapon, seeking the butt of his MP40 sub-machine gun.
Hüth understood immediately, and ordered Adler to move back.
What the sniper had started, he finished with one shot from his Kar98k, putting a merciful end to old Beck’s torment.
A shout from one of the others prevented him from pondering his horror at the necessary deed.
The Russians were moving up on both flanks. Mortars were now dropping smoke in front of Wistedt, so it was most likely that infantry were already closing in upon them. The bonus of it was that the sniper’s line of sight was now masked.
Quickly moving out of the Apothecary’s residence, Hüth checked with those members of first section on either side, ensuring the order spread to all twenty-six men who now defended Wistedt. And the order was simple.
Stand and fight.
Returning to his own position, he checked the machine-gun crew in the bedroom were ready, dropping off the last of the ammunition he had grabbed from the section stockpile. It was an old First World War MG.08, but it could still do its job and kill.
A mortar shell hit the corner of the house and a new hole opened up, providing an improved firing position for the NCO. He occupied it as soon as the rubble settled, gathering up grenades and his former commander’s sub-machine gun.
He heard the Russian ‘Urrah’ as the infantry surged forward, and he shouted out to his men to fire as soon as they saw a target.
The smoke was clearing slowly as the mortar crews had changed to HE only and shifted aim to Wistedt itself, seeking out the defenders.
The .08 opened up, its 7.9mm bullets pumping out at four hundred rounds per minute, dealing death to the first Russians through the thinning smoke. The crew had to be careful and nurse the machine-gun, as its water coolant jacket leaked profusely, requiring the loader to fill it with water from a number of old beer bottles laid out specifically for the purpose.
Hüth could not yet see a target, but he could hear the effects of the machine-gun firing from upstairs, as the sounds of men in pain reached his ears. Seeing a blur in the smoke, he threw a hand grenade and was rewarded with the sight of one of his enemies being propelled forward by the blast. The man landed and bounced forward like a child’s doll, lying still, never to rise again. Three others had been wounded by the same grenade, and their screams joined the rising sound of battle.
The Russian infantry did not lack courage and plunged on, even when another grenade extracted a similar price from the assault group.
Rifle fire now erupted as the last of the smoke disappeared in an instant, enabling all the defenders to engage.
Enemy soldiers dropped to the ground, some hit, others to seek cover. The MG continued its deadly work, steaming as it was when water was poured into the jacket at regular intervals.
Adler was dead already, a victim of one of the attacking units covering DP machine guns, which were being increasingly effective.
The Soviet infantry were chivvied to their feet by a young Lieutenant, who led them forward. Hüth dropped him with his first shot, but the impetus of the attack did not falter.
One Soviet sergeant threw a grenade at the MG team on the first floor. It landed amongst the bottles, where it exploded, adding a thousand lethal shards of glass to the shrapnel that cut the men to ribbons, and silenced the .08 permanently.
The old NCO took aim but someone else in Hüth’s group put the sergeant down, so he switched targets to the next in line, killing a submachine gunner with a shot through the chest.
The action of his rifle stiffened as brick dust gathered upon it, and he worked it hard, chambering the next round before sending it on its way, missing a running soldier who dropped into a shell hole.
Working the near-rigid bolt once more, he searched for another target, and saw a head pop up from the shell hole, firing more in reaction than calm aim. None the less, Hüth hit the target, blowing the top of the man’s head off and sending the ruined helmet flying.
Two riflemen and an officer were charging straight at him now, and he discarded the empty Mauser in favour of the MP40 and sent a stream of bullets at the running men, missing badly with the unfamiliar weapon.
The three were on him in an instant.
The leading rifleman lunged with his bayonet, which Hüth parried with the submachine-gun and shoved the man to the ground, using the Russians’ forward momentum against him. The second man had no bayonet and swung his rifle like a club, a blow glancing off the German’s shoulder.
Squealing with pain, Hüth fired his weapon again, this time pumping seven bullets through the man’s abdomen at point blank range. As he fired, the recoil pushed him back, causing him to lose balance. Hüth fell to the floor on top of the first assailant.
Before he could move, the officer shot him dead.
Not one man from First Section survived the battle.
Yarishlov watched satisfied as the 1st Battalion of 1195th Rifles swept into the village, and then turned his attention on the advance of his left flank units.
1197th Rifles had quickly reformed, its butchered second battalion being absorbed into the other units bringing both up to nearly 70% strength. Reports from reconnaissance teams operating in advance of the main force indicated enemy positions at Riepshof and Tiefenbruch, which information has already cost them two BA-64 armoured cars.
One company of 3rd/1195th had walked into Quellen without opposition and now waited for further instructions. The other companies were pushing to the south of Quellen, intent on capturing Tiefenbruch. 2nd/4th Guards Tanks provided some close support, but they were under orders not to become closely engaged so as to be ready to attack in depth when the enemy line was broken.
Further south-east two companies of tankers from the Guards had delivered their grapes of rider infantry from the 1195th into Otter, again undefended, whilst the 1st/1197th motored down the Dreihausen road, intent on delivering Yarishlov’s intended left-hook, supported by the rest of the 4th’s 3rd Tank Battalion. 1st/1197th was quite mobile, its enterprising regimental commander having acquired, stolen, requisitioned or captured numerous vehicles, from American Studebaker lorries through to a once pristine Wanderer W23 Cabriolet.