Two enemy vehicles moved past a burning shop, the fire providing sufficient illumination for Danskin to recognise the hated Panthers.
Ahead, confused by contradictory orders, the infantry of the 25th’s 2nd Battalion pushed ahead, running forward, the six supporting tanks turning about, and coming back towards Geleen to help their comrades.
The axis of advance for both T-34’s and Panthers was the Bergerweg, a modest avenue, running straight for the three kilometres between Berg and the edge of Geleen.
‘Europa’ filled the three kilometres with corpses, their IR sights giving them so much advantage over the Soviet tanks that no hits were received in return, all six running T-34’s killed with their crews.
As the relief column gathered itself in the area south of Einighausen, American artillery started to drop behind the rearguard, formed by Sherman tanks of the inexperienced 52nd RTR.
The plan now required the Panzers to turn back eastwards, forming the sides of a defensive corridor, through which the rest could pass.
‘Europa’ accomplished this tricky manoeuvre well, the Panzer IV’s of 3rd Kompagnie taking the lead.
Soviet anti-tank guns, the standard ZiS-3 76.2mm type, deployed at Heksenberg, south of the Bergerweg, waited patiently for their chance and took it at the first opportunity.
Two Panzer IV’s were struck, the lead tank fatally, the surrounding area rapidly transformed from night into day by the ferocity of the blaze.
The IR Panthers sought out their foe, and killed each in turn, but not without cost.
2nd Kompagnie’s commander died, exposed outside the turret hatch, whilst using the IR equipment.
A Soviet maxim machine gun lashed out, normally useless against such leviathans, the burst fired more in anger than expectation of success.
The dead Hauptmann slithered onto the floor of the Panther’s turret like a rag doll, face and chest destroyed by Russian bullets.
The machine-gunners escaped retribution, the German tanks sticking to plan and folding back on the end of the column.
A Sherman tank was struck, its engine belching black smoke as it struggled against the damage.
For a moment, it seemed like the tank would escape, the driver deliberately accelerating hard to make a small but steep incline ahead.
The incline won, and the damaged engine gave up the unequal struggle, a small orange glow escaping from the rear compartment.
By the time the crew had safely climbed aboard a Kangaroo, the Sherman was the brightest light on the battlefield, burning merrily, the shells starting to ‘cook off’ as the temperature inside rose.
At Berg, the Engineer Major was more than happy to be relieved of overall command, and withdrew to his sandbagged position to take charge of the detonating circuit.
Thirty minutes before the Eagles were due to escape, a sour-faced bird Colonel had arrived, complete with two companies of armored-infantry, men of the experienced 4th US Infantry Division.
Three minutes from the moment the first fully-laden M3 half-track started to disgorge fresh troops, a further surprise occurred, this more dramatic, as a number of German self-propelled guns arrived, taking up positions on the western bank of the canal.
4th Kompagnie of Europa’s Panzer Abteilung had been tasked to provide overwatch on the Berg bridges.
Unteroffizier Jablinski was not a popular man, despite his impeccable credentials, service with the Fuhrer-Begleit-Brigaden amongst his glittering resume.
His skills did not seem to measure up to his record, and his performance in training bordered on the inept at times.
The commander of 4th Kompagnie placed him with a good crew, and the JagdPanther started to do better in unit exercises.
None the less, the Unteroffizier’s personal performance was still well below that expected of a senior NCO.
Perhaps unsurprising, as Jablinski really wasn’t Jablinski at all, the present incumbent being a Soviet plant with precious little experience of combat, but with the ideals of communism as his driving force.
Manoeuvring his tank destroyer into a forward position, Jablinski satisfied himself that his moment of destiny was upon him, and composed himself for the task ahead.
Across the river, the sounds of combat got nearer and nearer, the relief column clearly closing on the Berg Bridge.
Mentally rehearsing the short journey and his actions when he arrived, ‘Jablinksi’ ensured his crew were otherwise engaged, quietly watching them as he slipped two hand-grenades from the rack.
Muttering to the gunner to take charge, he levered himself out of the cupola and onto the cool steel roof.
As he unscrewed the caps of the stick grenades, he re-checked the distance to the sandbagged position, satisfying himself that he would make it.
Both grenades rattled on the deck of the fighting compartment of vehicle 414, the silence suddenly punctuated with yells of alarm.
Jablinski was already halfway across the road as the first head appeared in the hatch.
When he was four feet from the sandbags, the first grenade exploded, the screams of the injured almost immediately cut short by the second explosion.
“Partisans!,” he screamed, as he rolled over the top of the position, the US soldiers in it taken by surprise, both by his sudden appearance, and the obvious destruction of one of the German AFV’s.
The Engineer Major quickly composed himself, and ordered two of his men to post themselves on the same side, eyes peeled for any saboteurs.
He had other things on his mind, and waited for the order to drop the Berg Bridge, once the airborne column had gone through.
He strained his eyes to see anything, but was only rewarded with the occasional flash as a large weapon fired.
Jablinski’s knife slammed into the base of his skull, penetrating his brain, and severing his spinal cord, killing him instantly.
Holding the cadaver up in an embrace, the Soviet agent moved to one side, placing the dead officer against the sandbags and withdrew the knife, clamping his hand over the mouth of the radio operator, and opening his throat with one vicious and deep cut.
His eyes were fixed on the other two men as he held the dying radioman upright.
He needn’t have worried, as the developing fire in the JagdPanther was providing adequate distraction for the two engineers.
Jablinski slid the radioman’s bayonet from its sheath and, a blade in each hand, he moved quietly to the two men.
Repeating the proven method of an instant kill, he rammed his knife home, killing the first man, and then repeated the execution with the bayonet, the force of the blow carrying the longer blade through the victim’s head, the point emerging in glossy scarlet from the forehead of the dead man.
Jablinski was the only living man in the position, the only other object of note being the plunger for the demolition charges on the bridge.
‘Europa’ blew the remaining armour of the 25th Guards Mechanised to pieces; the stationary tanks no match for the experienced Panzer gunners.
The Soviet infantry melted away in the face of huge casualties.
As dictated by the plan, the Panzer elements that approached the bridge peeled either side, turning back to provide a funnel down which the transports could move in safety, channelling them over the bridge, and into the waiting arms of their comrades.
Jablinski briefly toyed with the idea of detonating the charges and then disappearing, but his sense of duty made him stay, the opportunity that fate had presented to him worthy of full exploitation.
Dawn’s first light gave him enough vision to start seeing distinct shapes, darker shapes in a vista of darkness.
The first vehicle that he could identify was a large amphibian, the sort capable of carrying a full platoon of men.