G – Royal Naval air attack on 3rd/66th Engineer and 517th Tanks
H – Polish artillery observer group’s last position.
The loss of the engineers and tanks had stopped the intended northern route attack, firm Polish resistance halted the southern force’s progress, and further air attacks and artillery exchanges meant both sides settled down in their start positions, no ground lost or won, save the previously unoccupied Jork now in Soviet hands.
Losses in senior personnel had been bad for the Poles, but much worse for the Soviets. 47th Mechanised Brigade was now under the command of Acting Lieutenant Colonel Pugach, 66th Engineers under Captain Onipchenko and the remaining five IS-III’s of 6th Guards Breakthrough Tank’s were led by Acting Senior Lieutenant Stelmakh.
Both sides had their ‘investigations’ into the debacle.
The Soviet one resulted in blame being fixed on the dead, partially because the naval air attack had been unpreventable.
On the Allied side, the buck stopped at the door of Lieutenant Colonel Micha Krol, who was relieved of his command and sent to less onerous duties.
Nearly two thousand men had become casualties during a battle that had made no difference whatsoever to the overall military position, save to remove a number of significant formations from the Order of Battle on both sides.
Chapter 68 – THE PROPOSITION
He who has lost honour can lose nothing more.
The trains had thundered eastwards and brought the whole of ‘Camerone’ to Rastatt, where men and machines debussed for the short journey to their holding area in and around Muggensturm and Waldprechtsweier, Germany.
The journey through France had been uneventful, the strangely clad legionnaires hardly raising an eyebrow amongst the few civilians that examined the troops passing through their area. An occasional old soldier made the connection but, in line with the view taken by de Gaulle, his people generally cared only that units of the French Army were on the move and paid no attention to the detail.
When ‘Camerone’ debussed at Rastatt, things were very different. Whilst no SS insignia were in sight, the very nature of the men who quietly and efficiently disembarked, forming into their combat units with practised ease, was obvious to anyone who had been in Germany in the last decade.
Despite the seriousness of the situation facing their Fatherland, some of the population were less than enchanted to see the Schutzstaffel marching once more, albeit under the flag of the legendary Legion Etrangere, and more than one passing German gave voice to their fears.
Not all were so disposed, and word quickly spread amongst the townsfolk, with many braving the early Wednesday morning to witness the sight.
Ernst-August Knocke and his staff saw every unit off their transport and on the road to their temporary base. Camerone’s commander was everywhere, chivvying up a unit that took too long to disembark here, praising efficiency in assembly there, and often using names of even private soldiers, a gift of memory that was granted few commanders.
As quickly as the units formed for the march they moved off, anxious to be safely quartered in the woods east of Muggensturm before any Soviet aircraft found them.
It was bound to happen eventually, and in many ways, Nomori Hamuda was surprised that it had taken this long.
The Soviets had supplied the captured German vehicles and manuals for their maintenance. They had also provided qualified manpower, in the form of captured German Panzer-Pionieres, who had little choice but to conform.
At first, the Germans had been confused.
They had been captured by their deadly enemy and then shipped half a world away to service their own tanks, which were now in the possession of their ally, Imperial Japan.
Initially, they had applied themselves and the Panzers had run smoothly, despite the difficulties of operating in a climate for which they were not designed.
American prisoners were suspected of sowing the initial seeds of mass discontent, informing the Germans about the new world political map, and, more importantly, that Imperial Japan was no longer their friend.
The quality of work was hit first, and the tanks started to drop out of line. Fully half of Hamuda’s First Company was strung out on the road back to Guiping, none lost to enemy action, engine failures robbing him of their firepower.
He had tried to encourage the mechanics, failing to secure any noticeable improvement.
Today, he would try a different tack.
Arriving at the temporary service point at Chencun, just east of Guigang, the lack of industry was immediately apparent, despite the presence of two of his precious Panthers, one with a serious transmission problem.
With the Marquis Hirohata by his side, and a squad of infantry led by Kagamutsu at his back, Hamuda approached the leader of the German mechanics, a Captain Bauer, formerly of the panzer maintenance company, 19th Panzer Division, until his capture in 1944.
Previous conversations between Hamuda and Bauer had become increasingly strained, not assisted by the fact that their only common language was English.
“Good morning, Captain,” Hamuda always addressed the Germans by their rank, and in the case of Bauer, he gave the courtesy of a salute.
“Good morning to you, Captain Hamuda,” the absence of a salute being wholly deliberate and intended to convey the German’s position.
“I need my tanks back. When will your men have this two ready?”
“Three days I think, certainly not sooner.”
“That is not acceptable, Captain.”
“That is reality, Captain Hamuda. The Bergepanther is fucked,” gesticulating loosely at the recovery tank sat under camouflage with its engine sat on the rear hull.
Hirohata shifted like a dog straining at his leash. His command of English was superior to Hamuda’s, but he had a different job this morning.
“What is reality is that you and your men is failing. When we start, a transmission was being doned in a day,” Bauer shrugged, “A day maximum, Captain Bauer. Now my tanks are disappeared, left by the roadside, and your crews go back to mends them and are not seen for days.”
Bauer looked up from the report he was reading and made eye contact.
“We do the best we can with what we have. We don’t have enough spare parts now and we have to manufacture many items ourselves. It all takes time.”
Hamuda looked around the maintenance site, noting the men in various stages of activity. He was no fool and very quickly understood that there was little being achieved.
“That man there,” he pointed with his cane, “He has undo that bolt and then tighten it twice since I have stood here. Explain.”
Bauer took a look at the man and turned his head back.
“Perhaps he finds your presence daunting and is put off, Herr Hauptmann?”
The look on Bauer’s face crossed the threshold of insolence in an instant.
“Captain Bauer. Understand this,” and Hamuda raised his voice so that any other English speakers amongst the prisoners could hear his words, “Your usefulness here is centres around these tanks. Your existence is centres around these tanks. You will keep them running or we will have no use for you. Can I make me any clearer?”
Both Hamuda and Hirohata detected a few reactions amongst the German audience.
“I rather doubt that you will kill any of us, Hamuda. We are too valuable to you. Who else would mend the tanks eh? Your men? They couldn’t maintain a fucking hard on in a brothel. We do what we can, as quick as we can.”