Within a few seconds, a radio burst into life as a Colonel tasked as an observer in that aircraft and who had expected nothing more than a few hours flying over exercising tanks, called in a sighting report. He indicated infantry and light vehicles advancing towards Kefermarkt from the north. He reported no tanks and, on Dager’s instructions, a confirmation was requested and received.
The Soviets were vulnerable.
This was something that Major Adam Yartsov of the 64th Rifle Division was only too aware of, despite the success of his mission so far. A handful of wounded was all his unit had suffered on its drive from Freistadt towards Linz and, even though one of those was his best non-com, he could not complain at getting away so lightly.
His 440th Rifle Regiment had not always been so lucky and leading an attack was pretty much always a poisoned chalice.
Prior to moving forward into the valley, Yartsov surveyed the ground. His route of advance took him between two heights, with the River Feldaist running down the eastern flank, and a few small brooks running off it towards the western heights. His prime route headed south-west, over two small bridges.
The ground was undulating with hollows and raised areas in equal measure.
What troubled Yartsov was the scant cover available and he quickly decided to get through the potential killing zone as quickly as possible.
Mounting his men back into their vehicles, he summoned the recon force commander and gave him his orders.
He received the news of the Shturmoviks attack on the allied tanks with mixed feelings. If the air force had killed them all as they claimed then that would be just fine with him, but he knew how excitable fliers could get so he expected tanks in his way very soon. However, more air support should be available to cater for that if necessary and the large column of smoke coming from behind the hills could even mean that the claims were correct although it seemed closer than the location given by his regimental commander. In their joy, the airmen had falsely stated that the destruction of the American tank regiment had been to the south-west of Gallneukirchen.
That error contributed much to what then came to pass, especially as Yartsov, unusually and fatally seeing what he wanted to see, wrongly attributed the presence of track marks on the road to the destroyed company withdrawing ahead of his advance. A view he supported with information gained from an Austrian police officer in Lasberg, regarding the swift movement south of a group of American tanks, and by observing the hastily abandoned and churned up site where the 11th’s troops had laagered overnight.
Sat in his Gaz67 4x4, he moved slowly along behind his lead elements as they pressed forward, taking the south-west road out of Kefermarkt.
His soldiers, preceded by a hastily designed artillery barrage, moved forward slowly in their hotchpotch of vehicles. American lorries and halftracks were mixed in with their own Gaz and Zis vehicles.
Two SU-57 halftracks mounted 57mm anti-tank guns, and these were both immediately behind him where he could more easily direct them.
As they moved further south, he was pleased to see that the barrage had not knocked out any of the bridges on his route of advance. He indicated to his driver to pull over at a junction just in before the second of these bridges and surveyed the heights to his right and left.
His lead recon element was halted at the Wittinghof road junction, the young officer standing bold and proud in the turret of his BA64 armoured car. A second element was on the east road, level with the same road junction.
A perfect place for an ambush for sure but air had reported nothing, except for the tanks and infantry they had savaged south of Gallneukirchen. The commanding general had been satisfied with that and refused permission for Yartsov to wait for armoured support just in case the Americans still had fight, especially as Gallneukirchen was nearly ten kilometres away.
Like most general officers Adam had met in the last few weeks, his own commander was contemptuous of the Americans ability to fight. As a frontline soldier, he decided he would wait until the experience had come and gone before judging.
Still, orders were orders, and so he did not halt his battalion as it advanced, despite his misgivings, although he did harry the new young officer and ordered the recon platoon on a surge forward, instructing the commanders to pay close attention to the silent heights on either side and the woods to their front.
Preparing to give the order to move forward behind his two SP halftracks, Yartsov took one final sweep and almost missed a small movement on the corner of his vision as he ended looking east. Focussing his binoculars immediately on that spot, he saw nothing except a cleared area of woods and fallen tree trunks. As his eyes bored in on the spot he saw another movement and he knew what was about to come.
He had no time to shout before the sound of an explosion rose above the sound of vehicle engines, and all eyes were drawn to the BA-64 armoured car of the recon officer burning fiercely on the edge of the woods ahead. The second BA-64 was already reversing as fast as it could go, before finding a small area of dead ground to conceal itself in. Mortars found it in an instant and made it a victim of the previous night’s preparations, for the American weapons were all nicely zeroed in on numerous points throughout the valley floor.
Machine guns started hammering from the direction of Wittinghof and the nearby woods, and his men started to go down. More mortars started to land to the east side of his strung out convoy whereas the heights to his west stayed silent.
The east side recon element was not moving, thin wisps of smoke escaping the lend-lease scout car, betraying its fate.
Yartsov did not like it but saw no option as to stay was to die. He ordered his battalion to make for the trees to their west.
The two 57mm SP guns were directed to take the machine-guns to his front under fire to distract and suppress them whilst his infantry surged for safety. His mortar platoon was an ace up his sleeve and, under orders, it fell back quickly and set up in a defile just south-west of Kefermarkt, where the mortar platoon of the second battalion joined it on the orders of 2nd Battalion’s commander. Firing smoke, they attempted to mask the 3rd Battalion’s desperate move to the heights.
2nd Battalion’s soldiers were already dismounted and moved west as fast as their legs could carry them, intent on achieving the heights before they were noticed.
The first of Yartsov’s Su-57’s ceased firing as a direct hit from one of the armored-infantry’s own 57mm anti-tank guns took the front off the stationary vehicle. The whole crew survived without a scratch and found refuge in a small hollow. The crew of the second vehicle threw smoke grenades and tried to withdraw but only succeeded in throwing a track as they hit a large stone, making them easy meat for another 57mm. Only one man was killed in the vehicle but none survived the withering bursts of MG fire that sought them out as they tried to escape.
None the less, they had deflected some of the American fire from Yartsov’s men, fire that was again switched to the flanks of the 3rd Battalion toiling to find cover.
In war, timing is important, and the American commander had timed his ambush to perfection. All the mortars were switched to the suspected location of the enemy mortars, and within seconds, the Russians found themselves swept with high explosive equipped with surface detonating fuses. The carnage was immense and both mortar platoons ceased to function immediately, additional casualties being wrought by exploding Soviet ammunition.
At the same time as the mortar support platoons were smashed, the 57mm anti-tank guns sought out and found the Gaz containing the artillery officer whose job it was to call in support from the batteries behind. No such support would be forthcoming until his replacement reached the scene, so the artillery continued to fire on his last orders, which were to drop smoke down the east side of the valley to screen the troops from the heights found there. The only eyes that looked down on Yartsov from the eastern heights were those of an Austrian woodcutter and his nephew, sat comfortably with bread, cheese and beer, intent on watching the mock battle they had heard was being staged that day.