The movement had been swift and uneventful, save for the incredulous looks from locals, drawn to the passage of German tanks through their village or town.
‘Camerone’, and its additions from ‘Alma’, had arrived in darkness and efficiently secreted themselves, completing the task just as the first rays of the new day made themselves known.
The commander of the Stuttgart Garrison had made his plans for the breakout, and these had been relayed to the relief force.
Thankfully the man knew his job and there was nothing to criticise in his proposition.
All call-signs, fire free zones, and routes of advance were thoroughly briefed, and that left the task of the tactical break-in battle to the skills of Ernst-August Knocke and his commanders.
The mission had changed, from one of relief to evacuation, but it had come as no surprise, and made no difference to the Legion dispositions.
Lavalle had secured standing air protection for the battleground to keep Soviet Shturmoviks at bay, and even some ground-attack assets to suppress the Soviet artillery.
To their front lay the small town of Dagersheim, the centre of the escape route planned by the French General commanding the 3rd Algerian Division. Not just the Algerians, it was now known, as a plethora of smaller units had withdrawn into the city as the Soviet pressure built.
The Algerians, supported by some American armour, would strike towards Sindlefingen at 0900 hrs, with a view to opening up the main road out, and expanding the hole sideways as much as possible.
Once that was achieved, the Algerians would fold inwards, funnelling their soldiers out of Stuttgart to the relative safety of allied lines.
Some would stay behind, volunteers or pressed men, in order to cover their comrades’ departure.
‘Camerone’ had merely to advance two miles and smash the outer ring of the encirclement, widening the hole to the north-west and south-east as much as possible, whilst ensuring that the flanks were held against any efforts to reseal the pocket.
Considering that the unit had been hastily put together, it was superbly equipped and well supplied.
Although Knocke was hugely responsible for that, the abilities of his officers and Lavalle had greatly contributed to the efficiency that had been quickly developed and maintained.
Inside the Rathaus on Hauptstrasse, a final assessment was being made, based on yesterday’s aerial reconnaissance photos.
Cigarette smoke hung lifelessly in the air, despite the huge hole in the wall beside the large table, a product of a near-miss in some American barrage the previous April.
On the reconnaissance photos there seemed to be a few tanks in an area of interest.
“I can only agree, Rolf; where there are four there are probably more. None the less, it seems we will face mainly infantry and anti-tank guns.”
The Germans were used to doing things on the hoof and with little reconnaissance and were not fazed by the likelihood of surprises.
“We anticipated a hedgehog here,” Knocke tapped an area north-west of Dagersheim, marked by a rise in the ground and shielded by a small watercourse, “And artillery have their orders to hit them hard.”
It was designated ‘Leningrad’.
Uhlmann nodded along with Von Arnesen, the latter being more concerned as his 1st RdM’S 2nd Battalion was tasked with clearing the position.
The tank regiment commander pondered for a moment, and his reflection brought some good news for Von Arnesen.
Uhlmann addressed Knocke with his suggestion.
“Sir, I was keeping hold of my self-propelled guns as an additional reserve. I can move them up behind the infantry’s advance to provide direct support if you wish?”
There was never any chance that such an offer would be turned down, so Uhlmann’s 5th Company of Sturmgeschutz III’s and IV’s was re-tasked.
Outside, some 20mm Flak weapons started to hammer out, but the firing soon ceased as whatever it was disappeared from sight.
The noise provided no opportunity to talk, so those present took the opportunity to examine the map to ensure they were fully acquainted with the plan.
The senior officer from ‘Alma’ wiped away a trickle of blood from his forehead bandage, a trophy of a vehicle accident during the night march.
Lieutenant Colonel Lange was an unknown quantity to those in the room, his military credentials unproven. Whilst his service in the 17th SS Panzer-Grenadiere Division ‘Götz Von Berlichingen’ had apparently been spectacular, it had also been brief, his war ending when he was captured by US forces during the Battle of Mortain on 7th August 1944.
His 5th RdM was tasked with opening the southern side of the breach, supported by the other ‘Alma’ unit, the 3rd Legion Reconnaissance Compagnie.
Knocke had also assigned the self-propelled guns of the 1st AT Battalion to support Lange, should he need them. JagdPanthers, JagdPanzer IV’s, and two Nashornes would deal with any enemy tanks encountered, and the recon photos showed none whatsoever.
Knocke had retained some units under his command, ready to respond to an emergency or reinforce success, whichever one visited the battlefield that day.
A wave of relaxation seemed to sweep the officers group, as all realised that the planning was over and that their new war would start very soon.
They moved out into the main room.
It was 08:45, and the headquarters was a hive of activity; last minute checks, orders being confirmed, the mechanics of war smoothly operating prior to the attack. However, a stillness fell upon the room, as staff officers hard at work realised that the senior officers had completed their private discussion, and that the Brigade Commander was now stood on the briefing podium, silently waiting for their attention.
Those who knew him well could see the tiredness and strain sitting heavily upon the man.
Knocke, resplendent as always in his crisp black tankers jacket, his medals catching the eye and confirming his quality, looked down on his men with proud eyes and, when all had stopped around him, he began.
“Meine Herren, the time is upon us when we will atone for the wrongdoings of recent years. Not necessarily our own, or those of our country, but certainly those of the political leadership.”
Knocke softly gestured around the room as he continued.
“We fought long and hard, with comradeship and bravery, but we fought to preserve a political system that brought our country, and this world, to the brink of an abyss.”
The pause was heavy with widespread but unspoken thoughts of comrades, men who died in furtherance of that cause, that leadership, that political system. The voice grew in firmness and conviction.
“No man here has anything to reproach himself for, as you all fought with vigour and courage.”
Knocke reinforced that message with his piercing look at any who gave him eye contact.
Strongly he continued.
“But no matter how honourable we felt the cause for which we fought, or the pride with which we carried arms for our country, we must all now accept that there will be a price to pay before we, and the Fatherland, can again stand tall and take our rightful place in world affairs.”
More softly, and with full knowledge of the meaning of his words, he went on.
“The stain can only be removed by the further sacrifices of our nation.”
He left that statement hanging for a moment, and then raised his voice strongly once more, driving into the substance of his exhortation.