“Wiring loom, Obersturmbannführer.”
The driver dropped back into his hatch and the engine turned over first time.
Uhlmann ordered the tank back into line and joined the column just behind the tank belonging to his senior NCO and friend, once a Sturmscharführer of the SS Wiking Division.
Braun recognised his commander’s tank by its markings and waved respectfully to the indistinct figure in the cupola.
Ahead of them, the recon element, 1er/1er REC, had just lost one of their few antelope, the match of SDKFZ 251 hull and Puma turret falling foul of an enemy anti-tank gun.
Uhlmann listened as reports flooded in and orders were given, the lead elements of his advance deploying swiftly to isolate the problem and permit the advance to continue.
A handful of Soviet dead caught his eye, the obvious signs of clothing disruption betraying the looting of their corpses by others ahead in line.
They were prime men, who apart from the obvious evidence of traumatic death, looked fit and well fed.
‘Fit… well fed…’
The radio overrode his thoughts with calls to arms, as ahead the battle grew fiercer.
‘They’ve decided to stick then… now why is that… Samborzec?…’
He dropped into the turret and examined his map, seeing the notations that might or might not refer to possible defensive works on a line centring on Samborzec, and running northwest to southeast.
‘Let’s make that definite then… they are defensive positions… right… I’ll move the RdM units to…’
“What the fuck did he just say?”
His attention transferred from map to headset in an instant.
The desperate commander of the 3e RdM, Alma’s lead unit, called for help once more.
‘At Skotniki… tanks… merde… on our flank… there should be no tanks…’
Reports assailed his ears as the night sky started to flare up badly on his right flank, precisely where Alma ran into something unexpected.
Taking a few moments to examine the tactical position, Uhlmann debated two courses of action and elected for positive action on both fronts.
He ordered the advance to continue, but switched Braun’s oversized tank platoon, part of 1er/1er RdM, and the 1st AT company to move towards the flank of the obstacle that presented to Alma, seeking to relieve the pressure that seemed to be bearing down on his sister division.
Exactly as Colonel General Rybalko had hoped.
As Uhlmann’s forces split their focus, the Soviet retreat turned into a counter-attack of monumental proportions.
Two factors proved vital.
Firstly, the lead units of the DRH’s Grossdeutschland had not secured the main road junction at Lipnik, as the leaders of the Corps D’Assaut had been informed, which meant that the left flank was not only insecure, but in an extremely precarious position.
Secondly, Ernst-August Knocke had positioned both himself and his reserve force at Sulisɫawice, a small backwater soon to enter into the annals of Legion history.
All along the front, flares and star shells brought day light to the battlefield as men died in their scores.
0331 hrs, Tuesday. 1st April 1947, Route 79, three kilometres northeast of Koprzywnica, Poland.
“All received and understood, Anton-two. Berta-six out.”
Uhlmann had an aversion to retreating, something men of his breed shared, but he was also wise enough to understand that, no matter how good his men or equipment were, there were times when the enemy would have their day.
The situation had clarified itself very quickly, as Alma’s lead units found themselves entwined in prepared defensive positions and tanks, all of which meant that his flank support had been temporarily lost.
The relocation of Braun’s small battlegroup, actually Durand’s battlegroup, as the 1er’s battalion commander had joined the small force and taken personal command, was still ongoing, but Alma’s reports of counterattacks made by flame-throwing engineers and medium tanks meant that the attempt to turn the Soviet’s own flank was dead before it started.
That, and the order he had just received from Anton-two, Colonel D’Estlain, the acting CoS for Camerone, which halted his force’s advance and required a realignment to remain butted-up to Alma’s under pressure forces.
‘Realignment equals retreat in my fucking book… but the Oberführer knows what he’s doing.’
“Berta, Berta, Leopard-zero, over!”
“Leopard-zero, Berta receiving, over.”
“Berta, Leopard-zero. Heavily engaged by tanks, infantry, and rockets, five hundred metres west of Skotniki. Four vehicles and three personnel carriers destroyed. Unable to advance. Over.”
From memory, Uhlmann could place Skotniki and worked out that Durand must have crossed the river.
He made an instant decision.
“Leopard-zero, Berta. Withdraw immediately to the river line and hold. Understood? Over.”
“Berta, Leopard-zero, Understood. Unable to contact Dora units, over.”
A momentary chill pierced Uhlmann’s heart.
“Leopard-zero, Berta. Understood. Wait out.”
He switched to his regimental frequency.
“Dora-one-one, Dora-one-one, Berta, receiving, over.”
“Berta, Dora-one-one, receiving, over.”
Uhlmann’s relieved exhalation of breath carried into the airwaves as he transmitted the retreat order and advised Brain of the loss of communications with Durand,
“Berta, order understood… tank to front, left three, two hundred, fire when on!”
The close encounter played out over the radio net as Braun forgot to stop broadcasting.
“Good shot, hard kill… driver… back up slowly… shit.”
The radio went dead for the briefest of moments, long enough to make Uhlmann’s heart skip a beat or three.
“Berta, Dora-one-one. Apologies…Recruit’s disease. Order understood and executing. Dora-one-one out.”
Braun switched to his platoon net and ordered the surviving five tanks back to the river line, where the enemy tide would be more easily halted.
He also confirmed the orders with the AT company commander, who reluctantly started to give ground, leaving behind three of his Schwarzjagdpanthers.
Back in the main attack area, Uhlmann, operating well to the left flank of his force, ordered his Schwarzpanther in behind a well-tended square bush, almost perfectly Panther-sized, so he could update his map and make sure his orders were correct.
The ground was lower and the vehicle nestled into a small depression… ‘that’s perfect’ …and the engine immediately died.
The driver disappeared to resolve the matter, accompanied by the loader whose speciality had once been bicycles.
As Uhlmann spread the map on the top of the turret and covered himself with a zeltbahn to hide the pen light, the other crew took the opportunity to refresh themselves and smoke.
0334 hrs, Tuesday. 1st April 1947, Route 79, four kilometres northeast of Koprzywnica, Poland.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, Comrade Mayor.”
Kalinov, drenched with rain, reseated himself, having been allowed to get out of the tank for a call of nature, during which he had seen movement in the semi-darkness of the night battle.
His tank, an IS-III, was concealed along with the rest of the 6th Guards Independent Breakthrough Tank Regiment, a greatly reduced formation in terms of size, but one that packed a considerable punch.