The last white ring on Masami’s barrel represented that Pershing tank, left to rust on the banks of the Malai River, where Hamuda’s Panther tank had finally killed it.
All of the Rainbow’s Panthers looked shabby and much the worse for wear, the marks of combat evident everywhere the eye fell.
To combat the hollow charge shells of the bazookas, sheets of metal had been placed on struts, much as like the Schürzen used on Panzer IV tanks, although the Japanese attempt was less successful, only one of the Panthers maintaining a full set, that being the irrepressible Hirohata’s mount.
The fuel bowsers had finished topping off his tanks, so Hamuda’s mind turned to food.
The pleasurable thought was no sooner nicely nestled in his anticipation than his brain shelved the idea in favour of recognising the sharp sounds that started to assail his ears.
He focussed his mind, and realised that it was firing, large calibre firing by the heavy reports.
The familiar sounds of Rainbow in action, the 88mm guns on the two Tigers joined with the 75mm‘s of the Panthers, almost overriding the lower voices of the 47 and 57 millimetre peashooters on the Shinhoto and Chi-Ha tanks.
It was the unfamiliar sounds that concerned him most; whatever those were, they weren’t Japanese, or German for that matter.
He wiped an imaginary speck of dust from his watch.
‘12:37.’
Kagamutsu’s Panther was sliding into a forward defensive position already, the Sergeant-Major alive to the possibilities to their front.
Hamuda waved at an enquiring face and the message was received. Sakita’s Panther slid across to the left of the road, slipping behind a mud wall that could have been made for the purpose of secreting a tank behind it.
Masami was purring gently by the time he got to her, where he found the infantry commander waiting.
He took a report from his loader, who had been trying to raise the 2nd on the radio, without success.
To save mounting the tank, Hamuda accepted the offer of the infantryman’s map.
“Have to find out what’s going on first. 2nd are off air at the moment. I’m going to move my tanks up carefully. I‘ll want a platoon of your men riding with each group of my tanks. Be prepared to move the rest up the flanks here; half and half ok?”
The Captain was experienced in infantry-tank coopertion, so needed little futher information.
“Hopefully 2nd Group and your Major can cope by themselves, but I can hear something I don’t like up there.”
Captain Yamagiri snorted his amusement, his eyes concealed behind the sunglasses that his wounds required he constantly wear.
The Infantry group commander, Major Kusoa, was, as Hirohata had so delictaely put it, ‘Nothing but a stiff-assed chikushou kuso Samurai desk warrior with more bark than ability’. That lack of soldierly skill had already translated into higher casualty rates than any other infantry battalion in the Special Obligation units, with the possible exception of the ‘Moon’ unit. Survivors from that were still turning up, even now.
A louder nose distracted both men, the cause arriving in a wave of muddy water. Hirohata’s Panther slid to a halt adjacent to his commander’s tank.
His arrival again saved Hamuda the climb to the command tank’s radio.
“Commander, 2nd has been ambushed. Badly hurt too. I’ve been talking to the artillery Lieutenant. He’s panicking to be honest. Can’t raise Major Kuso; can’t raise any 2nd Group tanks at all. Your orders, Commander? “
“Is that all you know? “
“Yes. Commander. Except the evidence of our own ears. “
Hamuda looked at the map again and made a decision.
“Across country. We’ll all go across country. Straight up the road to the wood line, then we split off the road. Take seven and ten with you, push up on the right side, keeping two hundred metres inside the lake line. Hold here…” Hamuda pointed to a position level with the southern edge of the body of water.
“Observe and report… we’ll make a plan once we’re both in position. I’ll take Kagamutsu and go up the left, target the edge of the ground above Shengma. We’ll take one platoon of infantry each, one pushed up the 487 to backstop the 2nd. The rest make defences here. Captain Yamagiri, you get hold of reinforcements and secure this road junction. Clear? “
Both men understood the easy orders.
“Five minutes. “
Yamagiri was already shouting orders to his men.
“Driver, advance!”
The Sergeant in command of the lead armoured car made the decision to press on and took the lead himself.
“Sunflower-seven. Way ahead looks clear. Moving up to next location.”
In his turret, as well as in that of his commander, pencils made notations and marked the vehicle as moving towards the next terraced hillock.
The vehicle was a Marmon-Herrington Armoured car, once owned by the British Army in Malaya, taken from its former owners at the fall of Singapore.
Three had found their way into the 63rd Army, and the surviving pair were leapfrogging their way forward in advance of the fighting force built around Rainbow’s Second/Third Company combined unit.
The South African-made vehicle pulled over, making use of a bamboo thicket and the terracing to gain good cover and concealment.
Sergeant Haro slipped to the ground, his Nambu pistol in hand, and easily mounted the simple steps that edged the nearest piece of terrace, permitting him to gain some height.
His gunner kept a close eye on the NCO, all the time retaining a purposeful grip on the MG34 that had recently been installed in place of the Bren gun that had been with the armoured car since it was captured.
He watched as Haro scanned the ground, the binoculars sweeping in regular patterns, making sure that there was nothing of note on the next bound forward.
Satisfied, Haro gave the hand signal and the gunner radioed the all-clear.
Both men only realised how quiet it was when the distinct roar of a Ford petrol engine broke the silence.
Two minutes passed as the commander’s Marmon-Herrington pushed on fifty metres and continued to edge away from the second terraced hill.
Behind Haro’s vehicle, the roar of heavy engines grew as the two Tigers and solitary Panther Tank moved up, flanked by the last surviving Panzer IV and a gaggle of Chi-Ha’s.
A small herd of goats scattered ahead of the lead armoured car, displeased at being disturbed at their luncheon.
One brutish looking beast pulled at a tasty looking hedge.
It fell forward, not as natural vegetation, but as one very obviously made-made piece of camouflage.
“By my ancestors! Ambush!”
Haro was up in a moment, bounding down the steps to his waiting vehicle.
“Ambush! Ambush!”
The gunner sent the radio message loud and clear, coinciding with the first volley of shots from the hidden anti-tank guns that surrounded Route 487.
But for the goat, the 2nd Group would have been further forward, and in bigger trouble, if it was possible to be in bigger trouble.
The first volley destroyed the Panzer IV, the lead Tiger, and sent three Chi-ha’s to the scrap yard.