Both Centurions were still runners and seemed to be the most reluctant to move, still remaining just short of the ridgeline.
The last vehicle he could see clearly was the ISU-122, still alive, still fighting, stopping to fire and dropping back alternately, the heavy machine-gun on its roof belting out at any infantry that threatened.
A sharp crack to his rear startled Von Mecklenburg and he turned wide-eyed.
The liberated M-24 light tank had now joined the fray, helping to keep the enemy away from the Soviet SP gun’s path of retreat.
He turned to the left and tried to make out anything of note over in the nearby village of Nietuja.
He thought he saw something but lead spattered off the Centurion’s flank and forced him to duck low.
‘Seven… is that fucking all… just seven?’
In the fiery ruins of Nietuja, the last two tanks of Third Company were hidden in the smoke and so evaded his gaze, but thanked their lucky stars for the cover as they slipped back as Soviet tank hunting teams swarmed over the ridge.
Von Mecklenburg spotted the surge of enemy infantry off to the left of the ISU.
Now was his chance.
“Load canister. Gunner target right four… anti-tank troops… take them out.”
The shell slid home and von Mecklenburg settled himself to observe.
‘Fucking slavs!’
“On!”
“Fire!”
The 20pdr spat out a stream of solid steel balls which engulfed the nine men stalking the ISU.
The Soviet anti-tank teams simply flew apart, the high-speed impact and power of so much metal simply destroying any semblance of their human forms and scattering pieces and fluids in a wide arc.
“Fucking hell!”
“Donnerwetter!”
“There’s more to the left… another shot!”
The Soviets decided that discretion was necessary and melted away into the ground before the metal storm arrived.
None the less, the ground was churned up in places, and turned red with the products of dying men.
Von Mecklenburg was seriously impressed, but could not enjoy the moment.
“Achtung! APDS. Target tank, left six, three hundred, fire when on!”
The turret swung easily and the gunner’s warning and weapon discharge became one.
The 20pdr’s APDS shell punched through the T-54’s armour like the proverbial hot knife through butter but failed to hit anything of note and the enemy tank moved on, angling itself and setting up a shot.
“Driver, back le…”
The huge double sound robbed him of his senses, so loud was the shock of the 100mm shell’s passage, angling off the glacis plate before smashing into the very top of the gun mantlet and deflecting upwards.
His gunner remained on target and another APDS struck the target, this time with even less effect than before.
Von Mecklenburg shook his head to try and regain some of his senses and felt the blood run down his face and splatter on his hands.
He hadn’t even realised he had hit his head, so badly had his senses been affected.
His lips moved but he could hear nothing, and wasn’t sure that he was even making sense.
None the less, the tank stopped as he had commanded, and the enemy’s shell streaked past the turret by the narrowest of margins.
His ordered ammunition change had also been heard, and the gunner put a HESH shell on target.
Externally, the shell left a mark to show its point of impact.
Internally, spalded metal reduced the turret crew to nothing more than offal.
The T-54 was as dead as they came.
Speaking without hearing, von Mecklenburg ordered the Centurion further back and into the building line, taking advantage of a lull as the Soviet thrust temporarily ran out of steam, and the Guards’ officers prepared their men for the final attack.
Deniken’s force from the 171st Regiment struck hard into Haefali’s men, forcing them backwards.
The legionnaires rallied and counterattacked, retaking a portion of the Floriańska road.
Harangued by Deniken, the 171st’s leader led his men forward from the front in a second surge, assisted by men from Artem’yev’s 361st Guards Rifle Regiment and a company of tanks from 53rd Guards Tank Brigade.
By accident, not design, the focus of the attack struck the join between Haefali’s 1st and 2nd Battalion, battalions in name only, having been reduced by the heavy fighting to keep open an escape route for the Uhlmann attack force.
Haefali’s group split in two and the attacking Soviets pushed hard and opened the gap, moving left and right but also pushing forward until they encountered a scratch force of recon troopers and engineers at Rozdole, and the semblance of a Legion defence line formed again.
None the less, as Haefali’s report to Knocke indicated, it was only a matter of time until the Soviet numbers proved decisive.
In the confusion of the battle, Knocke did all he could to stave off disaster, and his urgent request to St.Clair got reserve units of the Alma moving to protect Route 79, the escape route from Koprzywnica.
It was Knocke’s last act as a divisional commander before circumstances returned him to another side of his role; that of combat soldier.
From the north, the Soviets swept over the ridgeline in greater numbers and smashed into the waiting tirailleurs and legionnaires.
From the east came the remainder of the 171st Regiment, supported by more men of the 116th Division and tanks from the 6th Guards Tank Corps, released by Rybalko to ensure success and the capture of Route 9.
From the southeast came the remnants of the 6th GIBTR.
All were focussed on the modest village of Sulisɫawice and control of its heights and roads.
“Alarm!”
Knocke looked up from the map table as the shout was taken up by others around his headquarters building.
Firing commenced close at hand, although the sounds of battle had generally been increasing as the fight grew closer.
Maillard, the man who had once struck Knocke with his weapon at the behest of Molyneux, dashed in breathlessly, gasping in air to deliver a report.
“Deep breaths, Captaine.”
“Apologies, mon General. The Russians have broken through in the east. They are less than a hundred metres from this building. You must evacuate yourself immediate, Sir.”
Knocke nodded and shrugged.
“I think the time for evacuation is well past, Capitaine. We must stand and not move back. The whole division is relying on us.”
He grabbed Maillard’s shoulder as he seemed to flag.
“One more effort, Capitaine. We’ve beaten them before and we’ll beat them again.”
Knocke looked around the headquarters and realised that every eye was upon him.
“Time to earn our pay, Kameraden.”
He beckoned D’Estlain to one side.
“Still nothing from Emmercy?”
“Nothing at all, mon Général. Given the enemy’s present moves I suspect he is beyond help or contact.”
“Yes, you’re probably right, Alphonse, but keep trying. I’ll contact Lavalle immediately. You speak to St.Clair. Tell him of our predicament and that we’re relinquishing control to him until this mess is sorted, Make sure all Camerone units understand the situation. Make sure you speak to Durand and Haefali directly.”
“Oui, mon Général.”
“Then I want you and a skeleton staff to get out of here. Head towards Bukowa and keep on going until you find friendly units. If you can re-establish control then all well and good, but I need you out of here as soon as possible… just in case.”
D’Estlain opened his mouth to argue but Knocke stopped him with the simple measure of offering a salute.