A vicious clang on the side of the turret and the T-10 rang like a bell from the shock. Ulyanov pitied his tankriders, the spray of metal from the hit must have at least injured some. Up ahead of them, He'd had seen a flash from the ridgeline. His scope saw just the edge of the turret, the tank was hull-down, just the top of the turret and the gun showing. Boxy turret, roof front sloping up to the mid-line then back. Probably a Chipanese Chi-Te. Fast, good gun, a long-barreled 75 same as on the Panther, but very thin armor.
“Pickle”
“Up” “Shoot!”
The ground just to the right of the enemy tank exploded in a shower of dirt and pebbles. Ulyanov cursed “Again” then was flung against the side of the turret as his driver spun the tank on its suspension to dodge another round. That sent the T-10 shot wild . “Again.” That one was short, smacking into the ridge just under the turret. If the enemy tank hadn't been hull down, it would have torn through the glacis plate. But it had sent the German gunner's aim off too. The enemy shot came nowhere close. “Again” and that one was true. The Chi-Te's turret flew into the air on top of an orange fireball as the tank's ammunition and fuel cooked off. A few tens of meters away from it, another Chi-Te exploded in an even more ferocious eruption. Ulyanov saw a roadwheel spinning into the air and bits of the engine compartment flying sideways. A battleship sitting on the ridge behind them must have seen it and picked it off with its big gun.
The laboring tanks made it up to the ridgeline, stopping hull-down. The tankriders leapt off and spread out along the ridge itself, checking for tankhunter teams and enemy tanks on the reverse slope. They waved the T-10s forward urgently, four Chi-Te tanks were destroyed on this section of the ridge but the fifth tank of the platoon was backing frantically, trying to make the next ridge. The tankriders dropped flat and a flash of lightning seemed to pass along the section of front as all the T-10s opened fire simultaneously. The enemy tank erupted under a hail of hits and near misses. If ever a tank had been killed, Ulyanov thought, it was that one.
He looked around, 13 of his 15 tanks had made it to the ridgeline and, even as he watched, another one, the T-10 stalled earlier made it up to the line and joined them. They were holding Phase Line Anatol and the Washingtons were coming up fast behind them. The T-10s would hold this position now while the T-55s moved through them to assault Phase Line Boris. With the Washingtons were resupply vehicles, carrying ammunition reloads and fuel. Plus vodka for the tank crews, although that wouldn't be on the manifest, Ulyanov threw his turret hatch back, allowing the cool air to clear some of the smoke and fumes from the tank.
Around him, the tankriders were securing the area. A couple of German tankers had survived the destruction of their vehicles and tried to surrender. If they'd worn the grey of the Wehrmacht, it might have saved them, for a while anyway, but they wore the black of the SS. The tankriders shot them down then bayoneted the bodies to make sure.
The rest of his crew threw their hatches open. Vitali had his gunner's hatch open, deep in the hull Dmitri was working his way up around the ammunition cases. Anya was already sitting on the edge of her driver's hatch, she was wearing a sleeveless man's cotton undershirt and it was transparent with sweat, her hair was plastered down by her helmet and her khaki pants were black. The white scars on her arms and shoulders, from hot steel fragments and burning oil and the jagged internal fixtures of the T-10 were highlighted by the moisture running over her. The rest of the crew would be bombing up soon, throwing out the empty brass casings and reloading fresh ammunition but Anya, along with the other drivers, was excused that duty. Driving a T-10 was physical punishment enough for anybody.
Their brief rest over, if bombing up could be called a rest, Ulyanov's battalion got back to work. Now they were providing overwatch while the Washingtons assaulted Phase Line Boris. Meanwhile, the battleships would be moving up so that the T-10s could move up themselves, ready for the assault on Phase Line Christian. That was the highest of the ridges and the main line of the German resistance. Once they'd broken that, it would, literally be downhill all the way. The sky was still overcast but the smoke from the shots, explosions and burning vehicles was forming a brownish haze across the battlefield. That was going to make overwatch difficult.
It didn't matter much, the Washingtons took Phase Line Boris without calling on the T-10s and SU-130s although they paid brutally for it. As Ulyanov brought his T-10s forward they passed the burning wrecks of a dozen T-55s, some with the bodies of their tankriders strewn around them, others with survivors sheltering by the wrecks. Some raised a cheer as the T-l Os passed, others even signaled the heavy tanks to slow down so they could scramble on board and continue the tight.
Phase Line Boris itself was a charnel house, the wrecks of the T-55s and German tanks within a few meters of each other. The German tanks, a mixture of Chi-Tes and Panthers, mostly the version with the 88 but a few had the absurdly long 75 millimeter 100 caliber barrels. Smoke from the wrecks permeated everything making it difficult to breath. Still no sun, the heavy clouds were trapping the smoke and haze, creating a growing fog over the battlefield.
“Panzers!”
The alarm cry brought the tired tank crews back up to alert. The Germans were launching their long awaited counterattack. From the ridge marking Phase Line Christian, a pack of German vehicles moved forward. Uiyanov spotted at least a dozen King Tigers, he guessed some would have 88s and a few of them the 105 the Germans had been introducing just before Germany was burned off the map.
There were half a dozen tank destroyers, Jagdpanther IIs with their 127 millimeters and some Chipanese tank destroyer he'd never seen before. More smaller, lighter tanks. And two dozen half tracks carrying infantry. The Germans didn't use tankriders the way the Russians did, they gave their infantry special armored carriers. Now, the Tankniki would show them why trying to fight from such thinly protected vehicles was a bad idea when tanks ruled the day.
“Turnip”
“Up”
“Shoot!”
It was a slaughter. The armor-piercing high explosive rounds smashed into the halftracks, sending them spiraling backwards, flying apart or just erupting into pyres of greasy black smoke. By the time they'd covered half the ground towards the Russians holding Phase Line Boris the halftracks had gone. The German tanks shot back but they were firing on the move at small targets seen only fleetingly through the fog of smoke and fire. The half-tracks destroyed, the surviving Washingtons and the T-10s started on the German tanks.
Once the half-tracks had gone, the Jagdpanthers were the top priority, they had the best guns and the best fire control. Ulyanov saw his sabot shot bounce off the glacis plate of one. Then a second and a third shot went the same way. Only with the fourth shot did the tank destroyer lurch to a halt and start to burn.
By then the lead German tanks were within a hundred meters. Ulyanov lined up on a King Tiger then saw its turret fly into the air and the hull explode. Unnoticed, a group of SU-130s had moved up to Phase Line Boris and there was no armor a tank could carry that could stop a sabot round from a 70 caliber 130 millimeter at these ranges.
“Drop back, drop back.” Ulyanov shouted into his radio, he didn't have the authority but he was officer on the spot. His T-10s went into reverse backing off the ridgeline, leaving three of their number burning on the crest. Five of the Washingtons had joined them. They backed off the ridge then stopped some 30 meters down.