The Soviet DShK gunners waited patiently for the enemy to come into range, watching, assessing, as the British aircraft from the recently reconstituted 235 Squadron approached slowly, angling in from a height of three thousand feet.
At a range of about one and a half miles, the lead Tsetse opened fire.
The Tsetse’s carried a kick that was new to the Soviets, and the fuselage mounted 57mm Gun came as a nasty surprise. Normally equipped with twenty-five rounds, ammunition shortages meant that each aircraft carried only eighteen,
The first two shots missed a stationary T-34, the third ploughed into the top of engine compartment, wrecking the power train and starting a small fire.
A gentle easing on the stick brought more joy for the aircraft, three shells smashing another T-34 with more spectacular results. A further three shells badly damaged a Zis-3, incapacitating the crew.
The Mosquito flicked to port and applied power, rising into the sky as angry tracers from the DT’s followed behind.
The second aircraft in line used ten rounds of 57mm and followed its leader, leaving another T-34 and an AA/Gaz lorry in ruins behind it.
Lining up in leisurely fashion, the final Mosquito took out another tank but did not escape unscathed. A machine gun from the penal company scored hits, severely wounding the navigator. A bullet clipped the pilot and, instead of escaping safely to port, overflying the advancing Poles, the damaged plane lurched to starboard. The exposed underbelly attracted more fire, and pieces flew off the tail plane and starboard engine, and other bullets punctured the fuselage, releasing the navigator from his suffering and adding to that of the pilot, as a heavy calibre bullet destroyed his left calf.
Flight-Lieutenant Erskine, one of the few home grown New Zealanders in the squadron, accentuated his turn, applying power in an attempt to evade and gain height in the same manoeuvre.
The other two Mosquitoes, seeing their comrades in difficulty, returned to the attack, both claiming fresh kills as they discharged the rest of their 57mm rounds.
Erskine, in a display of great courage, conducted a second run, approaching from the south-east.
Spotting Soviet tanks on the edge of the woods, he thumbed the firing button, only to be greeted by silence as the damaged 57mm refused to fire.
Flicking the selector to cannon, he spared a sustained burst for two camouflaged vehicles sat on high ground between the woods and Nottensdorf, before his aircraft started to shudder and his most pressing concern was staying airborne.
The Mosquito flight disappeared over the Allied lines, two undamaged aircraft riding shotgun over their less fortunate comrade.
Senior Lieutenant Pan, senior surviving officer of 1st Battalion, grimacing as a sympathetic but heavy-handed Sergeant bandaged his wounded legs, tried the radio again.
There was no reply.
Neither would there be.
The Brigade headquarters group had been hammered by the final pass of the twin engine aircraft that had hit 47th Mechanised so hard.
Colonel Rumyantsev was not dead, but would not last the hour out. The command group now consisted of a handful of shocked men trying to do their best for the wounded and dead contained in the two destroyed half-tracks.
A GAZ staff car containing 3rd Battalion’s commander halted at wreckage. Major Pugach could do no more than encourage the survivors in their efforts and say a soldier’s goodbye to the dying man who had been his leader for over two years.
Taking command of the 47th’s forces on the field, he went with Rumyantsev’s plan, handed 3rd Battalion to his deputy and moved up into Nottensdorf to command the battle.
The Polish attack had hit problems. An over eager Major had pushed his units hard at the lightly defended Grundoldendorf, and, in the overextended advance, had exposed his left flank to fire from the Soviet tanks and anti-tank guns in Nottensdorf.
The central attacking force had not advanced in a coordinated fashion and was only just entering Habecksfeld. This had permitted the Soviets to concentrate their defensive fire against the southern force.
Sherman tanks of the 1st Armoured Regiment’s ‘C’ Squadron engaged T-34’s to the north-east of Grundoldendorf, as well as those on the edge of Nottensdorf.
The artillery officer from the 376th called in salvoes on and around Dohrenstrasse and Nottensdorfer Strasse, where he could see the Polish tanks and infantry struggling forward.
All momentum was lost as the casualties amongst the tanks and support vehicles mounted, and the Polish Highland Infantry’s ‘B’ company went to ground in search of cover.
Machine guns of the Independent Company, positioned on the edge of Bliederdorf, tried to suppress the defenders with little success, the range being too great for effective work.
The heavy Vickers machine-guns tailed off as the order to cease fire was relayed, but not before some errant bursts had claimed seven of their own amongst the Polish infantry to their front.
Seven Sherman had been knocked out or disabled so far, in exchange for only three T-34’s. ‘C’ Squadron attempted to push forward once more, partially as a response to the screaming and shouting over the radio from the Lieutenant Colonel commanding, and partially in an attempt to get out from under the barrage of artillery fire.
The Soviet M-30 122mm howitzers were pumping out five rounds a minute, successfully lashing the Poles struggling towards Grundoldendorf.
Behind the allied lines, the lessons of the previous days were being put into practice by the radar section of the Polish Anti-Aircraft Regiment. Experienced eyes checked maps and trajectories and found four suitable areas, relaying the coordinates to the two waiting batteries of 5.5” medium guns.
Ordering two full salvoes on the nearest possible location, the Royal Artillery officer waited for reports of slackening enemy fire.
None came, and the failure was emphasised by the distant but none the less spectacular destruction of a Sherman, blown apart by a direct strike on the turret roof.
Fire was switched to the second location, eight hundred yards behind the first and more high explosive was dispatched, but again, no lessening in fire resulted.
The Artillery Major from the 53rd Medium regiment examined the latest data and realised that the trajectory information had been misinterpreted.
Looking further afield he identified an area just east of route 141, beyond the range of his weapons standard ammunition.
However, in 1944, the British Army had introduced a super charge shell for the 5.5”, capable of reaching out to over eighteen thousand yards. His orders sent four salvoes of these 82lb shells into an area fifteen hundred feet wide by a thousand feet deep.
The effect was instant.
At the front line, Soviet artillery fire immediately halved, dropping away further as each salvo arrived on target.
The Soviet M-30 howitzers were being hit, but worse still were the casualties to their crews. Men were being obliterated as the effective counter-battery fire did its grisly work.
Hardly a shell failed to kill or wound, injure or destroy, but the Soviet gunners, inspired by their fearless commanding officer walking through the steel storm, strove hard to hitch up their charges and get the guns out to another location.
The Polish troopers in the southern prong stubbornly clung to their ground, but now lacked the strength to advance until reinforcements arrived.
Polish infantry Lieutenant-Colonel Micha Krol, OC of the Highland Battalion, was in a blue funk. His attack had gone to pieces, the southern prong exposing its flank and then being battered into immobility by enemy artillery, his central force finding it unexpectedly hard to pick its way through the rubble of Schragenberg and Habecksfeld, the northern force slowly crawling through unexpectedly boggy conditions above the rail line.