“Fire!” The muffled MG’s caused little noise but their effect was shattering. We carried a large number of automatic weapons and, although as the attack progressed we gradually phased out a number of guns to save ammunition, our initial assault was always delivered with everything we had. The weapons were muffled to confuse the enemy at least for a few minutes. Afterwards the mufflers had to be removed to prevent the guns from overheating.
Between the river and the woods a section of the trail ran unprotected. The enemy was exposed to our fire from all sides. Within minutes the majority of the guerrilla company lay dead or wounded in the shrubbery along the trail. With our superior position resistance was futile. The surviving terrorists bolted for the forest only to run into Karl’s favorite toy—the flamethrower.
Belching eighty-foot flames, Pfirstenhammer’s group advanced on the river, burning the bewildered escapees as they went. Riedl took possession of the howitzers along with discarded crates and bags which littered the trail. The detachment caught on the bridge had been wiped out. Our six sharpshooters were busy picking off the swimmers and the few men who had managed to reach the far bank. On our side of the river, the enemy rout was complete. On the far side, Sergeant Krebitz and Gruppe Drei fared not so well. After the initial surprise the Viet Minh commander had managed to gather his battered company and they now began to fight back. The sharp staccato of the enemy MG’s could be heard distinctly. Soon a dozen or more Viet Minh machine guns were chattering above the rapidly increasing volume of rifle fire.
Suddenly I realized that there must have been considerably more enemy troops on the far side of the river than Krebitz had previously observed. Since Krebitz had only about forty men with him, I began to worry for their safety. My fears seemed justified when a few minutes later mortar shells began to explode on and around the hill which Krebitz occupied. We later learned that a full Viet Minh battalion was only a mile from the river when the shooting started. Rushing forward, they joined the battle and the sudden reinforcement was now threatening to swamp Krebitz.
I called him on the wireless. “Tell Krebitz that he should have his eyes examined,” Schulze yelled. “He sees a platoon where there is a whole goddamned brigade.”
“Krebitz! How are things over there?”
“Shitty!” he replied flatly. “Is the way to the river free, Hans?”
“For the moment at least. Evacuate immediately and cross the river if you can manage it. Dammit, Rudolf— we cannot afford to lose you.”
“Thanks for your concern about me, Hans.”
“I am concerned about Gruppe Drei, you idiot!”
“Just have a few clean underpants ready for us,” he cracked, “we might need them.”
“We are giving you cover. Move out!” I sent a message to Eisner to advance on the bridge and provide covering fire for Gruppe Drei. My gunners concentrated on the narrow strip of shrubbery that stretched between Krebitz and the Viet Minh MG’s. The mortar fire was intense, and shells began to burst around our own positions. Five of them exploded below the hill but others were creeping upward, seeking our machine guns. We were heading for a major battle with a large enemy force, probably two battalions, and our immediate future did not seem too bright.
I watched Krebitz and his men as they came dashing from cover to cover between the shrubs. Bullets threw dust and dirt all around them. Every one of our weapons was now covering Gruppe Drei but even so, a couple of the men fell, never to rise again.
“They already got four of them!” Schulze yelled and swore. The next instant I heard a swift “whoooz” and we ducked instinctively. Three mortar shells screamed in and exploded in rapid succession. Whoever was directing the enemy mortars must have been an expert, for shells now began to fall everywhere; on the hill, in the river, along the trail. I saw that Eisner’s company was getting its fair share, too.
“They are firing from over there!” Schulze yelled, pointing at a wooded hill about a mile from us on the far side of the river. Focusing my field glasses, I could just make out a group of Viet Minh working a dozen mortars. We managed to pin down the enemy MG’s and riflemen while Krebitz was crossing the river. They couldn’t use the coverless bridge, so Gruppe Drei had to wade and swim for the shrubby sanctuary on our side. None of our machine guns could effectively reach the enemy mortars, though some of Erich’s gunners tried to jam them by firing at extreme angles.
“It’s a waste of slugs,” I told him. “At sixteen hundred yards they will only scratch the place where they hit.”
“Never mind,” Schulze replied. “We still have a faint chance of getting some of them in the eye.”
I had to refrain from using our mortars. We had to preserve the limited amount of shells we had, for valuable targets such as Viet Minh camps, ammunition depots, and the like. To use them in an open battle only to silence a couple of enemy mortars and kill a dozen men would have been “extravagant,” a luxury that we couldn’t afford. The enemy could shell us at leisure. Only Pfirstenhammer’s group appeared to be spared by the mortars, so, I decided after all, to send the girls to him.
“Say, Hans!” Schulze turned to me suddenly. “Shouldn’t we ask Karl if he has any shells for those howitzers?”
“The howitzers!” In my excitement I had completely forgotten about the guns. It took only seconds to get Karl on the set. “Karl!” I called him excitedly. “We are having trouble with the mortars. Our MG’s can’t reach them…”
“I gather that… do you want me to use the howitzers?”
“Have you got shells?”
“Some…”
Karl was obviously amusing himself.
“Then get moving, Karl. If the Viets keep firing at the rate they are blasting away at us now—”
“All right, all right… you can tell your sob story later, Hans,” he cut in with a chuckle. “The guns are ready. I was about to call you myself. Just give me the elevations.”
“I am sending the girls over to you.”
“Nice of you, Hans. Start talking!” With Schulze observing the enemy positions, I began to radio the trajectories. The first salvo was a hundred yards short. The second and third volley struck home, blasting men and mortars.
“How was it?” Karl asked; firing over a patch of woods he could not possibly observe the explosions.
“You are hitting them squarely, Karl. Keep firing!” The rest was only routine.
The Viet Minh mortars ceased firing. The enemy commander thought it prudent to change location. While they were moving, Karl pumped a dozen shells into the shrubbery where the guerrilla machine gunners were deployed. Shortly afterwards the mortars fired again, though only a couple of rounds, and stopped before we could seek them out with the howitzers. Their shells scattered about the hill, blasting a few trees, chipping the rocks, a long way off target. Nevertheless, reports on casualties began to flow. Gruppe Drei reported eleven dead. More had been wounded by shell fragments. I ordered Krebitz to carry the wounded over to Karl’s section where the nurses could safely attend to them. I was calling Eisner when a salvo of around twenty mortar rounds screamed in and plastered the foothills where Bernard was deploying in the shrubbery. The moment the shells exploded, I felt a grip at my throat. The wireless cut out. Schulze dropped his field glasses and buried his face in his hands.
“Eisner has had it!” Corporal Altreiter cried.
I rushed to the radio set.
“Adler… Adler calling Stella… Adler report in… report in…”
Altreiter kept calling, then lowered his earphones and shook his head.
“There’s no reply.”
I dispatched two men to look for survivors.
Moments later we spotted two large enemy detachments moving toward the river with the obvious intention of crossing above and below our positions and probably delivering a two-pronged attack at dusk. Since a third enemy unit was still occupying the shrubbery and woods on the far side of the river, I realized that we had grossly underestimated the strength of the enemy. Schulze thought that there was at least a Viet Minh brigade in the vicinity of the river. More and more mortars came into play and we learned that the six howitzers which we had captured were not the only ones the enemy possessed. Soon our howitzers were engaged in a vicious duel with four similar guns on the opposite bills. I began to dislike the situation.