Two of the crewmen had returned to the Kätzchen and dismantled the rearmost MG-42, and both were now positioned to provide fire support, should enemy infantry arrive to play a part.
The ex-SS troopers could hardly bear to breathe as they waited…
…and waited…
0618 hrs, Tuesday. 1st April 1947, northern defensive line, Sulisɫawice, Poland.
3e/1er DCA screamed through Nietuja and shook out into a firing line just short of the ridge opposite the enemy force that was no longer heading west, but had turned and was driving at speed towards the river itself.
Köster’s mind recalled another battle, where Soviet tanks had crossed bridges secretly laid under the water, and his heart was in his mouth as the leading T54s approached the river, and then he exhaled in relief as they stopped short of the water and assumed positions that might provide them some sort of shelter from any incoming fire.
Köster’s tanks had been sent further west to broaden the front and provide an ability to interrupt any enemy movement westwards along the modest track that ran from Wólka Gieraszowska to Bazów and all points west.
The other units of the 1er BCL were engaging the main body of the advancing T-54s, trying to hit out at the two flanks in an effort to herd them into a concentrated bunch, something the Soviets would need to do to cross the obstacle of the river, but something that Knocke ordered early on, in order to make his artillery fire even more effective.
For some reasons, the T-54s and their accompanying APCs did not play by the rules, and remained on a relatively broad front and less of a target for the Legion artillery.
The reason suddenly became clear to any of the observing Legion officers and tank commanders, and target priorities shifted quickly.
The engineer tanks were spotted too late for the Legion to perform any credible active interference.
The Soviet artillery relocated their smoke barrage from the east side of Sulisɫawice to the northern approaches, and only a handful of shots were fired at the new arrivals before the slope nearest to the Legion tankers was covered with chemical smoke, successfully masking much of the assault force.
Immediately that happened, the Soviet bridging engineers already at the river went to work putting something in place that might stand a chance of supporting their light vehicles.
There was no chance that the brave men could erect anything capable of supporting one of the battle tanks, but the bridge layers that screamed down the slope at their highest possible speed could.
Their crews were free of any illusions, understanding that the smoke was all that stood between them and the concentrated fire of the defensive force.
On the extreme right flank of the attack group, the left as Köster looked, a Soviet tank ‘flashed’ and swung lazily, before stopping with a uselessly flapping broken track.
Given that the Legion artillery had not been firing at the spot, and that Third Company had yet to open fire, he rightly concluded that it was a mine, a possibility that might give Third an advantage if the enemy decided to spread even further to the west.
A radio order penetrated his concentration, as the Third’s commander gave the command to engage.
He knew Jarome was on a target so simply passed the order on.
Lohengrin jumped as the 88mm sent a solid shot across the river and crashing into a stationary T-54.
The AP40 shell enjoyed an advantage of angle, having been fired from the ridge looking down, which meant it was able to carve through the T-54’s armour.
Despite the Tiger gun’s venerability, it was still a potent weapon on the modern battlefield, although Lohengrin’s vertical armour plates made her more vulnerable than the more modern vehicles.
The T-54s below had their own successes and each of the BCL’s units had lost vehicles already.
Perversely, Third had been the last to engage but had already lost two of its ARL-44s, one to a dislodged turret following a direct hit, the other to its transmission overheating and the catastrophic failure that resulted.
The design was seriously flawed, and unpopular with the ex-SS Panzertruppen, who were used to better, but it had been pressed into service and its 90mm gun was more than capable of successfully taking on most Soviet tanks.
It was also surprisingly accurate, more so than the 75mm and 88mm weapons to which most were more used.
It was one of the ARLs that killed the first bridge-laying tank, assisted by another shower that helped beat down the smoke.
Zilinski cursed his luck.
The commander of the 7th Guards Special Tank Brigade, the man who replaced Arkady Yarishlov following his hideous wounding at Naugard, watched as the smoke started to dissipate and his forces took increased casualties.
“Mudaks!”
Unlike Yarishlov, Zilinski chose to ride into battle in an APC rather than a tank, and he had taken a position on the heights opposite the Legion lines from where he could better observe the unfolding events.
He was normally a cautious leader, but Deniken had been on the radio, haranguing him for any delays and ordering him to press and press hard.
The opportunity to destroy the hated SS bastards of the Legion was not to be missed, so Zilinski committed his men to a suicidal task, simply to protect his bridge layers.
He spoke rapidly into his radio, addressing the whole reinforced tank battalion, the support unit, and then one specific company.
Returning to his binoculars, he observed the tanks putting down smoke directly on the enemy positions and then the company he had ordered over the bridge moving to concentrate for the attack.
Simply put, he was prepared to sacrifice some of his men to get the bridges in place, not trusting solely to the smoke from his tanks and mortars, having decided to hand the enemy the maximum amount to think about at one time.
“Blyad!”
His lead tank came apart as something unforgiving hammered into it.
As dispassionately as he could, he watched as three of the vehicle’s crew ran around like human torches until they fell, either consumed by the fire they carried with them or shot down by their comrades.
Another tank died as he wiped his hand across his face, but this time the men aboard escaped without apparent injury.
The furthest forward T-54 nosed onto the modest bridge and accelerated across, the desperation of her crew apparent even from that distance.
Another followed but fell victim to a hit as it turned off the road, its track rolling out behind it as the driver coaxed the wounded vehicle towards the illusion of safety represented by an old building.
The enemy gunners turned on the wounded tank and simply blew it apart.
Yet another of his tanks had died before it reached the small stone structure, but the remainder were moving forward, bravely attempting to do their commander’s bidding.
Another paid the price, but Zilinski missed its death as he watched the first of the transportable bridges drop into place, the IS-II chassis bridging vehicle backing away to permit the first of his tanks to cross up river of the bridge.
“Yes! Yes! We’ve done it… my men’ve done it! Kapitan! Report to Comrade General Deniken… tell him we’ve bridged the river west of Route 9 in…” he quickly checked and added the bridges still being deployed, “…five places. Now, man!”
The remainder of his tank battalion acted as they had already been ordered, and the company and platoon commanders sent their tanks across the river.
Their own smoke screen was of little use, and each unit in turn felt the weight of the defence as casualties mounted.
Their accompanying infantry had started to cross beforehand, relatively unmolested by the tankers of 1er BCL.