Most Allied tanks had lain silent, engines off, the need for secrecy overcoming normal routine. The Legion commanders accepted the risk, balancing cold engines, and the accompanying issues, with the excellent maintenance routine that was put in place as the force lay in wait for the enemy.
The 16th US Armored Brigade flooded out from the Aubach River Valley, and that at Blienschwiller, and overwhelmed the few units posted there.
Pierce was in his element, and he intended to pay the Commies back for the ignominy visited upon his division in the early days of the conflict.
Above the 16th Armored, at Itterswiller and Eichoffen, the larger grouping of ‘Camerone’ hammered into the Soviet screen, overrunning Eichoffen in a matter of minutes.
The bulk of ‘Tannenberg’ emerged from the Lauterbach, and made immediate inroads into the columns of Soviet rear-line troops, laid out before the advancing legionnaires, who found the logistical support units nose to tail on the Alsatian roads.
And then, there was Barr.
A mix of 75mm and 105mm shells fell around the defenders of Barr, killing and maiming indiscriminately.
Soviet tank crews in their hull down positions, supposedly hidden from the enemy, died in their steel coffins, as superbly targeted artillery shells crashed through tender top armour.
Some tanks were not struck directly, but the constant hammers of concussion were sufficient to kill or incapacitate the crew, and remove the vehicle from the battle.
Kapitan Esher lay silent, unable to speak or move, shock and blood loss already prevailing, the combination condemning him to a lonely death in an Alsatian shell hole.
Junior Lieutenant Harazan had two pieces of shrapnel in his buttocks, but hardly noticed, as he ran back to command his engineer platoon on the road out of the Vosges.
Major Din was screaming into a silent radio, trying to contact anyone, not realising that the fragments that had killed the operator had also destroyed the vital parts of his communications equipment.
Lieutenant Colonel Blagoslavov had alerted his command, and was now calling for reinforcements, unaware that he was not alone in his situation, and that all along the Alsatian Plain, Soviet units were in big trouble.
As with all the valley exits, it was essential to Legion planning, that the counter-attack force secured the non-mined lanes and broke out quickly.
It was only at Barr that this did not go according to plan.
One of the 424th’s surviving anti-tank guns could sight on the exit on the Altenberg, a gun that had not been identified by the spotters on the heights.
The lead Allied tank took a hit that fractured the nearside track, the heavy metal spilling uselessly off its runners. The vehicle, a Tiger I that had once accompanied Wittman into the field in Normandy, attempted to manoeuvre on one track, the expert driver working wonders, gaining room for the following vehicles to pass.
The 88mm gun swivelled, seeking out its tormentor, before the crew realised that death was closer at hand.
Two engineers from Harazan’s platoon leapt up to attack the Tiger, each holding a Haft-Hohlladung magnetic mine, of German origin.
The first man looked in vain for a patch of armour without the anti-magnetic zimmerit paste applied. He circled the stationary leviathan and found a bare patch on the rear engine compartment, but was cut down by machine-gun fire before he could stick it to the Tiger.
The second man circled the other way and struck lucky, a suitable scab of zimmerit missing on the hull side.
Slamming the mine in place, he tripped the igniter and dove for cover.
As often happened in late war German devices, faulty or deliberately sabotaged equipment went wrong, and, although the mine exploded, the premature blast killed the Soviet engineer too.
The tank remained undamaged, and the crew, now aware of the local danger, turned the main turret and hull machine guns, using both to flay likely hiding positions.
A PTRD gunner produced a fluke shot, destroying the barrel of the hull machine-gun, rendering it inoperable.
Four more Tiger tanks moved past their companion, the leader receiving two hits from the 76.2mm anti-tank gun, hits that it shrugged off, the two scars gleaming testament to the ineffectiveness of the Soviet shells.
The next shell to hit the Tiger knocked it out, an IS-II’s 122mm penetrating the thickest armour plate adjacent to the driver’s position.
As the Legion tank did not burn, the IS-II slammed another huge shell into it, this time with more spectacular results. The 122mm hit the same frontal plate, but two foot to the left, causing the plate section between the two areas to disappear into the tank. It did not matter to the crew, who had all perished with the first shot.
The IS-II relocated, before enemy observers hunted it down.
Harazan leapt from his position, intent on retrieving the unused charge, two of his men leaping and running the other way as a distraction.
It worked, and the turret rotated, the gunner ready to fire as soon as the sights came to bear. Both men were seen by other eyes, and they were forced into cover by fire from the armoured infantry that accompanied the Tigers and Panzer IV’s of 5th Legion Regiment du Chars Spéciale.
Junior Lieutenant Harazan dropped out of sight into a gully by the roadside, cover that he now used, scurrying along on all fours, approaching the disabled Tiger unseen.
The 76.2mm anti-tank gun spoke again, its slow rate of fire the result of high-explosive effects upon its crew.
The gun was intact, but the men that served it were the opposite, dead and injured to a man, with only two capable of loading and laying the weapon.
Wiping away the tears of pain, the wounded gunlayer took deliberate aim on the third tank and fired, another track hit disabling the Tiger, reducing further the width of the mine-free trail, down which the 5th and ‘Camerone’ intended to flow.
Back up the road, one Panzer IV breasted a small ridge, and gained a position on the anti-tank weapon, only to be hammered into submission by the 110th’s surviving T-34.
The attack was failing, the mines now constricting the Legion force.
The fourth Tiger spotted the IS-II and lashed out, striking the turret, but not penetrating, the huge Soviet tank.
However, the commander dashed his head as the tank rocked, and now lay unconscious on the turret floor. His crew took the opportunity to carry out a hasty withdrawal, in self-reservation, opening up the defence.
The fifth Tiger I had been captured in perfect condition when the Ruhr Pocket surrendered, and had never fired an angry shot. It contained an experienced crew, men once comrades in the 102nd SS Schwere Panzer Abteilung, all captured during the Battle for Hill 112 in Normandy.
The 88m gun cracked, and the Tiger, known as ‘Lohengrin’, began compiling its legend.
An HE shell struck the gun shield of the anti-tank gun, just to the left of where the layer was deliberating on his next shot. He and his comrade died instantly.
‘Lohengrin’ moved forward, the sound of tortured metal reaching the ears of Russian and German alike, as it pushed its way between the dead and disabled tanks to its front.
Blagoslavov found the IS-II backed into a wall and stalled, the crew dragging their insensible commander out of the tank to tend his head wound.
Ensuring the wounded old comrade was placed in the hands of some nearby infantry, the 110th’s commander mounted the IS-II, and ordered it back into battle.
Approaching a blind corner, Blagoslavov dismounted quickly and ran to check.
Hugging the stonework, he risked a quick look, and was horrified to see a Legion Tiger tank bearing down on his position at speed.