The eight surviving Panther’s followed standard doctrine, working from the edge inwards, but in this instance the doctrine was flawed.
The T-34’s were closing fast.
Braun hit the transmit.
“One-One calling. First platoon concentrate on the left hand group of T-34’s, second platoon on the heavies.”
Braun’s gunner traversed and selected the nearest T-34.
“T-34 target. On.”
Braun gave the order and the tank jumped.
Satisfied that his target was destroyed, the gunner moved on.
With half an eye to his own tank and the other half on the larger battle, Braun noticed the IS’s stopping.
‘Verdamnt normal!’
He counted twelve IS-II’s intact upon the field, and each one put a 122mm shell in the air.
An express train went past his turret, the whoosh discernable, a sound well-remembered from battles on the Eastern Front.
Another passed on the other side.
All in all, ten shells sailed past. Two hit.
The two shells arrived simultaneously, striking the hull front of a second platoon tank as it moved locations.
Braun knew better than to expect survivors.
Another two IS-II’s succumbed to direct fire, joining four more T-34’s added to the total since Braun had claimed his last kill.
However, the tide of tanks was still flowing closer, and Braun was tempted to relocate backwards.
However, such a withdrawal would leave the forces at the Hedgehog dangerously exposed, and open up the rear of Dagersheim.
A Panther tank from another unit dropped into a position just forward and to his right, the markings clearly that of his regimental commander and future brother-in-law.
Uhlmann also saw the T-34’s as the greater threat and joined with First platoon in engaging them. His gunner was a fresh-faced young corporal, once of the Hitler Jugend Division. It was accepted that he was an uncanny marksman, without equal in ‘Camerone’, an ability he ably demonstrated by firing three quick shots, each of which hit home, stopping his two targets and sending the crews to a fiery death.
The HJ gunner was already the proud holder of the Iron Cross First and Second class, and Braun suspected he would receive more jewellery in the days ahead.
Another shell from his own tank struck a T-34 on the gun barrel, bending it dramatically, rendering it useless.
However, the Soviet gunner fired in his panic and the shell detonated in the barrel.
The crew abandoned but did not make friendly cover as an MG42 lashed out from the hedgehog area.
A Panther took a hit on its turret side with spectacular results. The 122mm shell bounced away, ploughing into a small farmhouse and bringing down the gable end.
The welding on the Panther’s turret had conceded to the kinetic shock and come apart, opening the side of the turret to sunlight. Not that it bothered the gunner or loader, as both were killed by the shockwave.
The commander, his face bashed and bloody when his head was dashed against the cupola, groggily ordered a withdrawal and the damaged second platoon tank pulled back, pursued by fire from the rapidly closing T-34’s.
Braun took the opportunity of a side shot on a manoeuvring T-34 and wrecked its engine, leaving it side on and unable to move. The crew decided to evacuate, escaping before second shell destroyed the vehicle.
Uhlmann had organised an air strike, and three USAAF Thunderbolts swept the battlefield, sending twenty-four rockets into the stationary IS-II’s, two more being instantly transformed into expensive scrap metal.
Soviet artillery was falling more heavily around the tank line, and Uhlmann ordered an immediate adjustment of one hundred and fifty metres backwards, tanks leapfrogging to rear positions.
The company’s most venerable Panther tank, an Ausf D captured in Normandy, broke down as it left cover, suddenly attracting the attention of both IS-II’s and T-34’s.
No shots struck the lame duck.
But an immobile vehicle is no place to be on a battlefield so the crew abandoned their smoking tank, a small fire having started in the engine compartment. It burned lazily for the rest of the battle.
On the edge nearest the hedgehog, the T-34’s were up to two hundred metres, although over half had been knocked out as they charged forward.
An 85mm pinged off the Panther’s gun mantlet, a white-hot trail rising straight up into the sky; a second clipped the top of the turret, the metal glowing a dull red momentarily.
2nd Platoon’s northernmost tank was forced to rotate its turret, determined to stop its flank being turned, but in so doing exposed the side to a solid shot.
To the inexperienced eye, there was little more than a hole the size of a tea cup, precisely central on the side plate. Those that had experienced the horrors of tank warfare understood that the solid shot had transformed the turret into a charnel house of pieces that even a mother wouldn’t recognise.
The gap needed to be filled and Braun reacted immediately, moving his tank to cover, halting, and turning one of the T-34’s into a metallic bonfire with a single shot.
Selecting a hollow position behind a modest bush, he kept his silhouette to a minimum and worked the flanking force, picking off another tank.
‘Are the bastards breeding?’
It seemed no sooner did one tank get knocked out than another two took its place, which in fact was probably a fair description, as the Soviet Brigade commander frantically fed more of his forces into the fray.
The fields between Dagersheim and Sindelfingen seemed to be crawling with armour, well over a hundred vehicles committed to action.
Braun became aware of more high-velocity weapons firing, and was relieved to discover comrades from 4th Company moving into position.
4th Company was a hotchpotch of vehicles, which was why it had been left out of the assault.
Now, its SP’s and tanks started working the field efficiently, killing and killing and killing.
The T-34 drive vanished, gutted further by the arrival of 4th Company, the survivors turning and running, exposing thin rear armour to vengeful Legion tankers.
Another wave of T-34’s moved forward, but this time mingling with the IS-II’s, the centre of the battlefield containing an inexorable wedge of advancing Soviet armour, still outnumbering the defenders.
Braun checked his watch, surprised to find it was precisely ten o’clock.
Uhlmann ordered a forward movement all across the defensive line, regaining their previous positions. The Katyusha barrage arrived as the tank companies relocated once more.
Two of his men lay dead, torn to pieces by a machine-gun that was covering the trench leading to the bunker. Another man had exposed himself above the parapet for the briefest of moments and was now coughing out his life as his ruined jaw and windpipe leaked vital blood into his lungs.
Sounds of combat from Durand’s platoon moved further away, as the Legion Lieutenant drove his men to fulfil his orders.
Two of Von Arnesen’s men equipped themselves with some grenades and made speculative throws over the top, aiming at the machine-gun.
Both failed, and one man earned a bullet in the wrist for his troubles, an alert guardsman shattering his ulna.
Reinforced by some more stragglers, Von Arnesen could still only muster two dozen men. In any case, two hundred men wouldn’t be any good unless the present tactical problem could be overcome.
Höffman dropped down by the edge of the trench, accepting a Mauser rifle, its bayonet fitted and stained with recent use.
Wiping the blood away, he extended the weapon, using the reflective blade to look up the trench, assessing and planning his own move.