All aircraft were now under orders to return with unexpended wing munition, given the shortages some squadrons were experiencing, although the orders did not yet extend to returning with bombs aboard.
The air patrol, three Seafires from Queen, flew lazily around some miles to the east, but close enough that the pilots could see the trouble experienced by their running mate.
It also proved a distraction and gave the 51st Mine-Torpedo Regiment aircraft an opportunity to close.
Despite all the warnings their intelligence officers had issued, the Seafire pilots relaxed at the sight of A20 Bostons in US colours until their attitude and direction burned through the lethargy and made the radio report to their carrier more urgent.
“Snow White, Snow White, this is Sneezy Red One, ten unidentified aircraft closing your position due east at sea level, ten miles and closing for a torpedo attack.”
The naval Lieutenant said ‘unidentified’ to save on initial explanations.
“Roger Sneezy Red One, intercept and identify.”
Now was the time
“Roger, Snow White. Aircraft are A20 Boston’s in US markings. Diving now.”
Some of the aircraft returning from the support mission moved to help, but a combination of good tactics, luck and poor decision making on the part of the Spitfire pilots had put the 51st in prime attacking position, and all ten Bostons put their torpedoes in the water, five for each flat top.
Three of the Bostons were hammered into the water by fighters, a fourth manoeuvred violently and drove itself into the waves without receiving a hit.
One of the original air patrol Seafires received a full burst from a dorsal turret weapon, turning the fighter into a funeral pyre that swiftly extinguished itself in the cool waters of the North Sea.
HMS Trafalgar, a Battle class destroyer, was a design specifically created for anti-aircraft work, from her stabilisers to provide a suitable gun platform, through to her enhanced AA armament of 4.5” and 40mm Bofors.
Two of the escaping Bostons flew too close and were knocked from the sky simultaneously, their wreckage mingling as they disintegrated on contact with the water.
The remaining four Boston’s sped away as fast as their Wright Cyclone engines could power them, their turret gunners all shouting joyously as their torpedoes bore fruit behind them.
The fire caused by the crash on HMS Argus had been all but extinguished but it was of little concern now, as three torpedoes ripped the starboard side open, allowing water to enter and explore the ships vitals, the carrier soon to be betrayed by her origins as a civilian vessel.
HMS Queen evaded all but two, but they were enough. Her main engine room flooded within minutes and power for fire fighting was lost. Some escorts tried to close and supply water, and HMS Magpie, one of the Black Swan class sloops succeeded.
The explosion that followed sunk both HMS Queen and HMS Magpie in seconds, bombs and other explosives falling victim to unchecked fires within the carrier’s hull.
There were fatal casualties on a number of other vessels, with blast effect, pieces of metal, wood and other matter claiming lives up to a thousand yards from the explosion, both at sea level and in the air.
Nine hundred and sixty-three men had died in a heartbeat.
The shock wave rocked the Argus too, hastening her end, although her crew were able to escape in numbers, only sixty-four succumbing as the ex-ocean liner swiftly sank beneath the surface.
Some of the aircraft expecting to land started to ditch, others made for nearby Heligoland or for some other safe haven, eventually adding another twenty-one aircrew to the list of dead.
Two of the Bostons returned to friendly airspace where one was shot at by friendly flak, killing the turret gunner.
51st Mine-Torpedo Regiment had been virtually wiped out, but had exacted a huge price on the Royal Navy, sinking two small carriers and a sloop, killing a thousand men and potentially removing four squadrons of enemy aircraft from the Allied inventory.
Soviet Naval Aviation had indeed announced its presence.
Allied forces – HQ, E, F, & G Companies of 2nd Battalion, of 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment, of 101st US Airborne Division, and I & K Companies of 3rd Battalion, 370th Infantry Regiment, of 92nd Colored Infantry Division, all temporarily attached to French 1st Army, US 6th Army Group.
Soviet Forces – Mobile Group Virnok, of 4th Guards Mechanised Corps, temporarily attached to 5th Guards Tank Army, of 3rd Red Banner Central European Front.
The artillery was incredible, accurate and relentless. Eggenthal was already transformed into a wasteland of rubble and shattered wood.
And yet, every time the Soviet infantry charged forward, troopers from Crisp’s battalion rose up and sent them back, bloodied and torn.
Seven hundred and one paratroopers had started the campaign. Eggenthal now contained less than four hundred and fifty, the remainder split in equal measure between evacuations to aid stations or left dead upon the field.
An unexpected boost was received when two companies from the 92nd Colored Division’s 370th Regiment arrived with ammunition just before chow time. The Buffalo soldiers were quickly directed to defensive positions, Item Company to the north, arraigned around Route 12, and King Company in a blocking position approximately half a mile south-west of Eggenthal.
A line of T-34’s took position facing west towards Crisp’s positions and proceeded to batter the village with direct fire, all the time supported by the relentless artillery of the 4th Guards Mechanised Corps.
Major General Turbin sent orders to Colonel Virnok, dispatching his formations to the north and south, intending to surround and reduce the pocket and preventing escape.
Now Crisp’s 2nd Battalion could not evacuate its casualties, the approach roads also being bathed in high-explosives. The aid station, established in the church and appropriately marked, overflowed with damaged bodies, spilling its contents out into the grounds, bringing those close to death alongside those long departed.
However, red cross markings were notoriously unreliable protection when fighting the Red Army, and such was the case today as shells had already struck the ancient building, partially demolishing the square tower.
At 1600 hrs, a further attack was repulsed, but the momentum of the Soviet advance had carried it all the way to the American foxholes, and in two cases, beyond.
Major Crisp called an officers group and passed on his decision to bug out, received with universal relief.
The first unit out was Crisp’s own George Company, a fast moving point party supported by a business-like support group, the rest of the troopers assisting wounded men to move back.
The point party came under fire and went to ground, three of its members never to rise again.
The Russians had closed around behind Crisp’s positions, cutting off the six companies.
Soviet artillery redoubled its efforts and Eggenthal sank lower into the maelstrom.
Paratrooper Generals are like no other military commander, for the very nature of their command places them in harm’s way in order to be effective, dropping into enemy territory with their men.
It made for a particular breed of commander, derived from a very particular breed of man.
Maxwell Davenport Taylor had returned to Europe to resume command of the 101st, only to be pitched headlong into the defensive operations that were currently bleeding his division dry.
Reports of the encirclement at Eggenthal filtered through from 501st’s commander.
One look at the map showed the experienced Major General that his cupboard was nearly bare.
He had amassed bits and pieces of the fractured and virtually destroyed 80th US Infantry Division under his command, but they were not enough to punch through to relieve the 501st by themselves. Looking at the assets available, he factored in the recent arrival of the ravaged A Company and virtually intact B Company of the 702nd Tank Battalion. Adding to the mix some of the 80th’s divisional artillery elements, all Taylor was light was infantry.
Unfortunately, very few of the 80th’s doughboys had escaped, and what had made it through to US lines would need some time to recover and shake out.
Taylor examined the map closely. Drawing his CoS in close, he spoke quietly.
“Route 12 is important to them, quite clearly.”
Brigadier General Gerry Higgins only nodded, knowing his General was in decision making mode.
“I could order to hightail it back to Bayersried, or Obermelden…”
Higgins didn’t think that Taylor intended anything of the sort. Such a manouveure would probably result in the loss of the force.
“Or I could break him out and give Ivan a bloody nose into the bargain.”
As if Taylor could read Higgins’ thoughts, he tapped the map in irritation.
“Light on rifles though, Gerry.”
Closely examining the area around Obermelden, Taylor could see the untasked support elements of the 80th that would be itching to hit back, but he could not see doughboys anywhere, leastways none he could free up to counter-attack Eggenthal.
Higgins consulted his notes at length, referring to the map to get his bearings.
“When do you want to go, Sir?”
Taylor, sitting on a stool, finished his coffee before replying.
“Ideally, by 1900 hrs at the very latest. That will give the boys two hours of daylight to do the job, and offer up the night to get Crisp’s boys outta the hole.”
Higgins nodded, doing some swift maths before floating his idea.
“Our air is good at the moment, so we have no worries about movement. We can firm that up with Penguin Pete of course,” the CoS referring to Major Peter George of the USAAF, the 101st’s air liaison officer, by his accepted nickname.
“Here we have the 100th, less a company. Solid troops with halftracks. If we send them now, they can be to the line here,” Higgins used a pencil to propose a start line for the counter-attack, receiving an instant nod from Taylor, “By 1830 latest, giving time for a brief.”
Taylor ran his finger down the roads from Attenhausen to the start line north-east of Obermelden, calculating the difficulties as he went.
“OK. Give me more, Gerry.”
“We have a platoon of the Brazilian cavalry here at Unteregg, and a company of their engineers somewhere south of Sontheim.”
To the informed listener, such a conversation would be a sure sign of the disarray of the Allied defences, bits and pieces from all units scattered everywhere.
None the less, the line had held so far and the two officers had started to develop a plan to counter-attack and rescue the cut-off force.
“OK Gerry. Get Demario and Smith down here straight away, with a warning order to prepare for a move a-sap. Also, Castelli needs to be in on this, similar warning order for his artillery.”
Taylor squinted at the map, finding the combination of gas light and sunlight insufficient for his needs.
“Orders out to the Brazilians, 2nd/1st Mechanised Cavalry and 1st/9th Combat Engineer Battalion to concentrate on Obermelden immediately.”
Taylor grinned at his CoS.
“Once that is done, we will go through the niceties of letting our fellow Generals know what we are doing with their men.”
Higgins grinned back at his Commanding officer, a small part of him knowing exactly how Taylor would take it if some other General started monkeying around with his boys.
‘Still, needs must,’ he told himself.
General Taylor sought out the information as to who might command.
“Looks like it’s the 100th’s ball, so get me their Colonel on the line once you have all the boys moving.”
Within a minute, the radio started pumping out orders to the various units.