Both he and Mazur went tumbling, falling either side of the trunk.
Czernin heard the crack and scream as Rakowski’s leg, held firm by a rigid branch, snapped at calf level. The bone ripped through flesh, exiting into daylight. Blood spouted, but the screaming stopped abruptly, as the young trooper smashed his head face first into the ground.
On the other side, Mazur landed heavily, winded, but unblooded.
Czernin called for the First Aid kit and saw Kondrat climb up into the tank in response.
Aronowitz, the tank’s experienced gunner moved quickly to assist Mazur.
Click.
Even with the noise of the passing vehicles, the small sound was recognised for what it was by the experienced men, and Czernin locked eyes with Mazur for the briefest of moments, a microcosm in time during which both men read fear in the other.
The German S-Mine was one of the most effective anti-personnel mines ever invented and this one, a 1945 version, had been put in the ground a few weeks before the German capitulation.
The initial charge fired the mine upwards where another ,more deadly charge, delayed for a few seconds, exploded and sent the contents of the mine in all directions. This mine did not contain the standard steel balls, as it was one of the last produced. The desperate Germans had filled it with old rusty nails, screws and waste metal shards.
The mine exploded at precisely three foot above the ground. Aronowitz was shredded by unforgiving metal, his lower and central portions instantly transformed into a bloody mulch.
Mazur received dozens of fragments, none of which killed him outright, although the totality of the damage gave him less than two minutes to live before his system drained of blood.
New boy Kondrat was struck in the right shoulder as he emerged from the turret and immediately dropped inside, screaming as blood from a major vessel pumped over the interior of the tank.
Rakowski’s open fracture, exposed to the mine, was flayed by metal, severing the leg at the site of the wound and causing more damage all the way to the knee and beyond.
Only Czernin was unscathed, his quick reactions allowing him to use the tank as cover.
Raising his head, he saw his senior crew members were beyond help, and that young Rakowski was mercifully still unconscious. Pulling off the boy’s belt, he fashioned a tourniquet to staunch the flow of blood.
The screaming in the tank had dropped to a low animal moan and he saw Kondrat hauling himself out of the vehicle, the covering of fresh blood making him seem almost demonic.
The fortuitous appearance of one of the infantry’s ambulances saved him moving, and he gesticulated at the orderlies, sending them to the tank first.
Reaching around and under his wounded comrade, Czernin staggered to his feet, surprised that the explosion seemed to have robbed him of his balance.
He took a moment to steady himself and draw a deep breath before picking up Rakowski, surprisingly lighter than he expected until his mind factored in the missing part.
Clutching the badly wounded boy to him, the veteran Sergeant carried him towards the waiting ambulance.
Click.
Leaving behind his two running mates, Acting Senior Lieutenant Stelmakh acted on a hunch.
The enemy forces to his front had withdrawn to holding positions and hunkered down, not even engaging his small force.
Artillery started to fall and he reoriented his unit to avoid further loss.
He could only guess that a flanking movement was in progress. Communicating with Kapitan Evanin, he received permission to investigate, as well as the welcome news that his commander would send one of his own tanks back to help.
Ordering a squad of the accompanying infantry to board ‘Krasny Suka’, he moved back down Cuxhavener Straße into Heitmanshausen and turned northwards to cover the road from Jork.
As he found a suitable position, Stelmakh was surprised to find one of the 3rd/47th Mechanised’s 76mm anti-tank guns arrive, complete with a T-34, and a full platoon and headquarters group from the 3rd Battalion, 66th Engineers.
The Kapitan in charge sought the tank commander out.
“Greetings, Comrade Mladshy Leytenant,” Stelmakh’s temporary rank not apparent to the engineer, “Onipchenko…”
His brief introduction was cut short by a coughing fit, during which the Engineer Captain extracted his map and spread it on the turret roof.
Stelmakh’s quizzical look drew a response.
“September 43, Germanski bullet in the lung, Comrade, liberation of Bryansk.”
The younger man could only nod in acknowledgement as Onipchenko looked down at the map, orienting himself quickly.
“Command structure is shot, Comrade. Enemy aircraft have hurt us badly. General Skorniakov is wounded and out of the fight. Colonels Polunin and Rumyantsev are dead. It falls to my Brigade commander to sort this mess so,” he found what he was looking for, “Colonel Khozin has decided that we will envelop the enemy force.”
The engineer swiftly indicated two lines of advance drawn in red on his map.
“This axis is aimed firstly at Bargestadt and Harsefeld, part of that force will then head northwards.”
Using both hands, he described a classic pincer movement.
“Our force will move up to Jork and then push hard towards Stade.”
Steklmakh’s obvious comment died on his lips as the coughing started again. He waited but Onipchenko anticipated the tanker’s objections.
“More units are coming, Comrade Mladshy Leytenant. We have been sent here to get things moving but there will be more on the ground to come, plus artillery and guards mortars in time.”
Stelmakh nodded.
‘Fair enough’.
“Nothing tricky here, Comrade. Your tank is our ace if we come across enemy heavy armour, I will have the rest of my battalion and two companies of Tridsat Chetverkas here within ten minutes, but we are not to wait, Comrade.”
He looked across at the only other tank present, a wornand battered T-34 bearing the name of a distant battleground.
“Our comrades in ‘Polotsk’ can lead the way with the main force until our armoured cars arrive. We will advance quickly, and in close order, until I say otherwise, Comrade.”
Again, Onipchenko prescribed the route of advance, singling out the separate route he expected the IS-III and its support units to take.
“Are you ready to move, Comrade?”
“Immediately, Comrade Kapitan.”
“Good, then drop in behind the lead elements and let us find the enemy together.”
A swift salute and the man was gone, shouting at his men, as he headed to the T-34 to issue a similar brief.
Three minutes later the small battle group started to move off in the direction of unoccupied Jork.
Both sides hammered away at each other with artillery, causing casualties, yet both sides were unaware that the emphasis had switched to a number of insignificant tracks north of Nottensdorf.
That was about to change.
The Sergeant in charge of ‘Polotsk’ was less than happy to be placed at the lead of the column.
His nerve was placed under more and more pressure, the nearer his tank got to the crossroads at Westerladekop, his jitters transferring to his crew and unsettling them all.
In fairness, they had been through hell in the last two weeks, subjected to allied air raids, artillery, even shelling from some Allied naval vessels inshore.