The last Russian T-34, the one which had taken out one of their tanks, was finally shot to pieces by the other Panzer IVs. Then they switched to explosive grenades and fired on what was left of the Russian infantry. Impact detonation on the target. On this side of the forest a whole rifle squad fell when it was hit by one such explosion. Men howled in the glow of the burning T-34s, fell and died. Flames rose fiery red from the wrecked tanks. A smell of burning flesh, molten metal and burning rubber.
When the last explosive shells had been fired, when it was all over, the Panzer Lieutenant shouted to Arno:
“That’s it. I’ve reported upward about this battle. Now a counterstrike is to be made. We are ordered to join in the queue of this, so we’ll hook up with our own company which is coming soon. So thank you for the cooperation!”
“Same to you,” Arno said and saluted. The Lieutenant touched the peak of his field cap and disappeared inside the turret of his machine. The German armour withdrew to shelter east of the village. The stranded crew had to ride on the engine grilles of the other vehicles.
Arno ordered Karnow, who he had with him, to “clear the field.” They pulled out among the blood and guts, among the twisted corpses and dying Russians, with Karnow on the left wing and Arno on the right. The wounded enemies they encountered could still shoot back, so every one they passed was given the coup de grace. According to international law you, as a victorious combatant, should give them first aid, but shooting the wounded was the custom on the Eastern Front.
This was no “hands up”-war. This Arno knew already. It meant that if you wanted to survive in the combat zone you had better shoot to kill than act according to International Law. Also, front soldiers knew that wounded Russians would sometimes play dead, only to suddenly live up and shoot you in the back. Hearing about this Arno was determined never to fall for such a bullet. The worst errors in combat stem from benevolence.
They mopped up the field halfway to the forest edge. They didn’t go any further; new enemy forces could arrive, and it would be their turn to be caught in the open and be cut to pieces. Arno ordered his men to regroup, running back over the field to the brook and back to the wood. Once there Arno went to his 251, took the radio hand piece and requested the two-minute barrage he had available. The salvo point would be the forest edge and the end of the road in the southwest. Then, while the shells fell on the target, he called Captain Wistinghausen on the radio. The Captain said that he would be on his way. Then he broke radio contact again.
The barrage ceased. Then came the rest of their armour company from the east. The tanks crashed through the still-burning village with closed turrets. The two vehicles that had supported Arno joined the column. A total of 15 Panzer IVs broke through the village, skirted the burning wrecks on the open field and moved towards the woods in the south.
An armoured counterattack was in the works, supported by a panzer grenadier company from another battalion. This too had joined the column, mounted in their 251s. In the rearguard of the column Captain Wistinghausen arrived in his Kübelwagen, driven by a staff corporal. The car pulled up in the wood. The Captain jumped out, dressed in uniform cap, tunic, white smock, riding boots and breeches, MP in hand. Arno met him and they moved into the shadow of a 251 to discuss the situation. Wistinghausen said:
“Now the Battle Group will go in and clear the woods and beyond. Aerial reconnaissance has seen a thing or two there. We’ll see what happens. Everything flows!”
Wistinghausen took off his uniform cap and wiped his forehead, continuing:
“Well, you know, anything can happen anytime. We’d better be ready to join in.”
“Yes, sir,” Arno said.
The village was still burning. Yellow flames, flanked by grey smoke and sparks, rose against the springtime sky. In the forest they could hear explosions, the rattle of MGs and the noise of engines revving as tanks pushed through the splintering trees. Their counter strike was in full flow.
After three hours the German armour and panzer grenadiers returned. The soldiers in the vehicles nodded to Arno and Wistinghausen where they sat and watched. The counterstrike had been successful.
For the moment, Arno, Wistinghausen and the entire 3rd platoon were sitting eating lentil stew. Later they found out that the entire 4th Russian Armoured Army’s counter-attack had been repelled.
Night. Arno Greif lay on a rough mattress of twigs on the ground under his SdKfz. The woodland surroundings were dark. He had his winter smock and heavy overcoat over the uniform tunic so he felt fairly warm. It was half past two AM. In four and a half hours they would be marching off. The clearing out of the forest to the south was completed. They wouldn’t advance further in that direction, towards the southwest. Now they were heading northwest, with Tarnopol as the ultimate goal.
The Russian counterstrike had been blocked and repelled across the whole area. The Russian supply lines had been cut off and the T-34s had been knocked out or just run out of diesel. That was the sum of the battle on the day before, March 31. The Russian armoured counterstrike had been eliminated and neutralised in all respects. And Battalion Wolf, with Arno, had contributed to it.
At the dawn of this day, April 1, Battalion Wolf would leave the village behind, with the aim of moving towards the river Seret and eventually reaching Tarnopol. But the safe haven of Tarnopol was still over a hundred kilometres away. Hube’s Army was still in a Kessel, still in a motti, still in the process of breaking out.
12
Deliberation
The 3rd platoon column of winter camouflaged SPWs advanced up a hill, reached the crest and rolled up to a crossroads. The point vehicle halted and the two which followed stopped behind it in the icy mud.
At the forward right seat of the first car, Arno Greif sat in full combat gear: grey field trousers, marching boots, grey-green tunic, white camouflage smock, Sturmgepäck, magazine pouches and steel helmet with white fabric cover. He studied a map for a few moments, folded it, put it back in the map case, gave an order to the driver, picked up his assault rifle, then climbed up on the seat, swung himself over the edge and jumped to the ground. The grey-white-mottled combat vehicle rattled off the road and parked in the shelter of some trees. The Sergeant shouted to the MG crews standing up in the compartments of the other two vehicles that they were taking a five minute break here.
It was midday on April 2, the fifth day of the breakout. Advancing to the northwest they were heading towards some form of Russian barrier. The column point, in the form of Kampfgruppe Bäke’s tanks, was already beyond this, as it was some 50 km ahead of this part of the column. But the Russians had cut the column about 7 km ahead of where Arno’s unit was taking its cigarette break. A defensive position, a Russian anti-tank deployment on a ridge, must be stormed and cleared.
The Squad Leaders walked towards Arno who greeted them with his right index finger against his helmet rim. Sergeant Bauer and Corporals Karnow and Deschner were wearing the usual equipment: Sturmgepäck with straps and belt of blackened leather, magazine pouches of canvas and white camouflage smock. In the collar opening was seen the grey-green tunic with insignia of silver thread on the collar patches, for Bauer framed by an extra angle. Even Arno’s collar patches had this traditional sign for German NCOs.