But not all.
The Schwarzpanther rocked as the shell slammed into its flank, causing its shot to fly harmlessly away.
Braun, shaken by the hit but still focussed, estimated that the anti-tank gun was too far away to run down before it got another shot off, so he grabbed the MG-34 again and did what he could.
His driver performed the standard manoeuvre and presented an angled target to the enemy’s firing point and hit the throttle, the idea being to increase the chances of a defection by angling all surfaces, as well as making the tank harder to hit.
However, the latter worked both ways, and both the turret coax and Braun’s MG went far wide of the mark.
The next enemy shell missed the rear of the tank by the smallest of margins and Braun, having counted the time it took the enemy to reload, made the decision.
“Driver, left turn, run it down, full speed, man!”
The turbine engine brought the tank up to its full speed and the race between crews began, with only one winner, for whom life was the prize.
The hull MG stammered and made a difference, the AT gun’s commander spinning away as bullets virtually severed his left arm at the shoulder.
Starshina Ivan Balyan, holder of the Hero of the Soviet Union award for his bravery whilst fighting the Legion in the Alsace, fired off his Tokarev in futile resistance before Braun smashed the life from him with another burst.
Within a second the crew’s nerve broke and they scattered, not quick enough for the aimer, who was struck by the trails of the gun as the Legion tank smashed into the D-44 gun and propelled nearly two tons of metal in the direction of the fleeing man.
His screams were increased as the weight of the Schwarzpanther pushed down on the weapon, crushing him across the waist and almost cutting him in two.
Braun and his gunners took out the remaining crew with controlled bursts as ammunition ran low.
Behind them and to the extreme right of Braun’s attack, one of his platoon’s tank took a MACE hit on the front sprocket.
The track simply shattered and the heavy sprocket flew in all directions.
Braun watched impotently as the turret swung to engage the MACE, all the time yelling for the men to get out of the vehicle.
The Hungarian gunner made no mistake and the heavy rocket struck the nearside perfectly, just behind the driver’s position.
After a moment, one man emerged, clutching the ruins of an arm, his uniform smoking and smouldering.
A heat haze started to embrace the destroyed tank as its contents began to burn.
The wounded man rolled off the turret and onto the engine deck, where he was picked off by one of the Hungarian guard troops.
The body lay on the grilles and was ravaged and consumed by the fire that engulfed the battle tank.
The anonymous ex-SS panzer soldier was the last casualty of the relief attempt, as two green star flares rose high and signalled the successful extrication of the assault force.
Braun charged his surviving vehicles over the bridge, all the time keeping heads down behind him, using up the last of his MG ammunition to remind any braver Soviet soldiers of their decided fragility.
Durand communicated the success to Knocke, who immediately ordered the whole group back to new positions along Route 9.
“A brilliant piece of work it seems, mon Général!”
Knocke could not deny D’Estlain’s observation that the swift counter-attack into the rear of the enemy force had been a superb piece of soldiering, and he would certainly ensure that whoever had commanded received the recognition he deserved.
But for now, even though his situation appeared easier, there was still much to concern him.
The lack of contact with Emmercy was his prime concern, but the DRH Kampfgruppe reported being in contact with Legion units in and around Klimontów, and fighting in progress in the village itself.
Whilst the Grossdeutschland reports were right in most respects, they were wrong in that the fighting in Klimontów was not resistance as such, simply mopping up by Soviet units keen to open the route completely.
Elsewhere, Haefali was struggling to maintain a complete front as he withdrew.
Lavalle had insisted that the Camerone headquarters be relocated to Bukowa and not remain in the front line, which order Knocke tactfully refused, stating his reasons for remaining, at least until Haefali’s force was re-established on the Route 9 defensive line.
Accepting the Camerone commander’s reasoning, Lavalle set about getting more of the chattels of war on line and ready for use.
The 1er Division’s 1er Brigade had encountered enemy forces on the fringe of the Alma area and was unable to progress, especially as it was further impeded by more enemy air attacks.
The new plan, direct from 1er French Army Headquarters, was to use the situation to their advantage, continue to ‘feign’ disarray and withdrawal in the Camerone area, whilst encircling the attacking enemy force, using Alma and the 1er Division in the south, running adjacent to the Vistula, and uncommitted units of the DRH’s 101st Korps in the north, namely the 116th Panzer Division and 3rd Fallschirmjager Division, forming pincers to encircle the encirclers.
When Knocke had been apprised of the plan he bit back his acid observation on feigned disarray.
But, he felt, with the new plan, and reinforcements arriving to his north and south, the worst was now over.
Alas for Camerone, the worst was yet to come.
Stelmakh received the breathless man’s report as he sucked heavily on a captured cigarette.
“I saw them myself, Comrade Mayor. They went into the village and drove out to the northwest. I swear I can see no one left in it, which means…”
Stelmakh interrupted.
“Which means the road to Sulisɫawice is free and ours for the taking.”
“Yes, Comrade Mayor.”
“Excellent work, Comrade Mladshy Leytenant. We’ll talk more of this after the battle, but for now get your men ready to move quickly. Once my Comrade driver has finished his tinkerings, we’ll move out as one and strike straight through Skwirzowa and attack Sulisɫawice before the bastards can get settled. You’ve done well. Keep it up.”
The happy young officer saluted and went to get his platoon of the SMG company ready to do his commander’s bidding.
Meanwhile, Stelmakh turned his attention back to the man on the rear of ‘Krasny Suka’, who was sat looking at him, feigned disdain on his face.
“Tinkerings is it, Comrade Mayor?”
Stelmakh slapped the man’s foot and passed the half-smoked cigarette upwards.
“A slip of the tongue, Comrade Driver. This is no time for your word games anyway, Stepanov, so what progress have you made?”
“Tinkerings complete, Comrade Mayor. Fuel filter was blocked, same as with the other two.”
The delay in advance had been because two of the IS-IV had experienced engine failures, both of which had been quickly traced to contaminated fuel.
“So, we can advance?”
“I was thinking more of a leisurely drive back to Lublin… or maybe Moscow, Comrade Mayor.”
“Excellent idea… we’ll go via the village ahead. Now get yourself ready, you sad bastard.”
Stelmakh mounted the tank as Stepanov moved across the turret and dropped into his driving position, ready to take ‘Krasny Suka’ back into battle.
Arranging the headset for comfort, he broadcast to the waiting regiment.
He called each units commander in turn, checking that there were no problems and that each was ready to play his part.
When it was over, he double-checked.