With a huge 130mm main gun, new gearbox, upgraded suspension, and twin all-new engines, the IS-IVm46/B was virtually a new tank, and, as such, needed a field test with the specialists in the ATPAU.
There were two of these huge beasts, both manned by experienced Soviet tankers.
Alongside them was the experimental SPAA troop, consisting of two of the extremely new BTR-152, known as the ZSU-12-4, based on the latest transport development, the Zis-151 truck, and two ZSU-12-6, a recycled KV or IS-II tank hull, mounting the all-new four and six barrel DShKM heavy machine-gun mounts respectively, something hastily thrown together to help counter the ever-present ground attack aircraft on the modern battlefield.
The approach of the Legion armoured spearhead committed the IS-IVs to closer combat than Kon would have liked, but they were there and could not shirk the task, so the two behemoths waited in hull down positions, ready for the moment to strike.
The battlegroup paused north of the Krummbach Bridge whilst an evaluation was made.
The smaller bridge that would have taken the group straight across the Osterbach and onto Route 40 was considered hardly suitable for the lighter vehicles, and most certainly incapable of carrying the Tiger IIs of 1er BCL.
A small composite unit from the 1er Régiment Étranger de Cavalerie led the way, detached purely to satisfy the heavy tank unit’s reconnaissance needs.
Part of that composite took the southern route, intending to move parallel to the main force, but on the eastern bank of the Krummbach.
The rest went ahead of the main body.
The leading Camerone vehicle, a recently acquired and quite battered SDKFZ 251/D half-track, still sporting the partially obscured insignia of the panzerjager abteilung of 2nd Panzer Division, turned the corner, stopped, and disgorged its squad of grenadiers.
The soldiers moved apart and swept down the hedgerows, making for the nearest houses, all the time chivied by their unit commander, who was, in turn, chivvied by Hubert Hertz, the commander of the Heavy Tank unit.
Time.
On the battlefield, time can be as much of a killer as a champion, the absence of it, or the urgency in trying to gain it, often leading to disaster.
In the case of the Legion units traversing Knickhagen, the latter case held sway, and the imperatives of time meant that things were not as they should be, were not done as they should have been done, or were overlooked.
A kubelwagen took up the point position on the junction of Sudholzstrasse and Vor dem Wiedehagen, closely supported by a jeep with a .50cal mounted.
An Opel Blitz truck disgorged more men, who swept deeper into the village, hastily ensuring that no Soviet heroes lay in wait with a panzerfaust or Molotov cocktail.
The axis of advance was down Sudholzstrasse, heading to secure the bridge at the junction of Osterbachstrasse.
In a building adjacent to the kubelwagen, soldiers prepared to defend the stairs. Stalia’s men held their breath as the Legionnaires swept through the ground floor, sparing only a cursory look up the half burned dog-legged staircase.
A terse radio message interrupted the search and the leader, a new NCO, drove his men on, eager to please his unit commander, who had demonstrated confidence in him with the recent promotion.
The error was repeated elsewhere.
In the butcher’s shop, a vicious firefight broke out, as a group of Legionnaires found some enemy hidden away in an attic room.
The exchange was brief, and the Soviet soldiers were killed to a man, grenades doing most of the grisly work, as well as setting fire to the old shop.
The small fight was repeated in a few other places, and with the same result.
Anxious to get the tank officer off his back, Felix Bach pushed his recon troopers harder, transferring the pressure from above to his men up front.
The men obliged, and hurried through their duties, quickly reporting the road and main bridge clear.
“Panzer marsch!”
Hertz, buoyed by the quick work up front, whirled his arms at his subordinate tank commanders, speaking into his intercom for the benefit of his crew.
The King Tiger leapt forward as the driver let the clutch out too quickly.
Hertz was thrown forward, but managed to steady himself, although he did smack his nose with his own hand, causing his left nostril to spout blood and his eyes to water.
His Porsche King Tiger preceded the three Henschel versions in line, the column led off by the Staghound armoured car.
Close behind the heavy tanks came infantry support in lorries, and between the two an M-16 moved forwards, its crew scanning the skies in case the Red Air Force made an unexpected appearance.
The 4e RACE was next in line, with the rear brought up by a platoon from the infantry element.
The two Tiger Is had moved off the road and remained north of the Osterbach whilst an oil leak was being dealt with on one of the vehicles.
Both Tiger crews were taken by surprise at the quickness of the recon unit’s work, and worked fast to try and tack themselves onto the rear of the column, as soon as the fault had been found and fixed.
Stalia waited and watched, both concerned and buoyed by the sound of approaching heavy tanks.
His troops had a motley assortment of weapons at their disposal, from a PTRD anti-tank rifle, through a pair of US bazookas, three panzerfausts, and a few crates of Molotov cocktails. The fire discipline of his hidden troops was superb, and the leading echelons moved past unhindered.
Hertz’s tank, leading when it should have been nowhere near the front of the column, moved up to and past Stalia’s concealed position, the familiar shape of the deadly tank bringing back more than one awful memory for the troops of 161st Rifle Regiment.
The Staghound moved over the bridge and positioned itself on the junction of Route 40 and Burgstrasse.
Behind it, the Porsche Tiger II moved onto the bridge.
Hertz’s eyes still ran with moisture, his stinging nose provoking the reaction.
Perhaps, had he been able to see clearly, then the extra height he enjoyed from being in the huge tank’s cupola might have made a difference, and he might have seen something deadly, and what came to pass might have started a different way.
But he couldn’t, and he didn’t, so did not see the cable that everyone had missed.
Stalia clapped his hand on the shoulder of the NCO waiting, the tension of the moment causing the Corporal to yelp with surprise, even though he still managed to twist the handle on the captured German Glühzündapparat 37 detonator, sending an electrical pulse down the cable to the explosives underneath the Osterbach Bridge.
Underneath Hertz’s tank, the demolition charge of two hundred kilos of US military explosive did just what explosive is supposed to do, propelling energy waves in all directions, many of them upwards.
The bridge rose, taking the seventy-seven ton tank with it, reaching an impressive height before gravity resumed control, returning the lump of metal to ground.
The tank slammed into the riverbank, nearside first, and rolled onto its top, messily flattening the upper portion of the insensible Hertz, who had somehow remained within the cupola.
Whilst not as demonstrably deceased as Hertz, the rest of the Tiger’s crew were equally dead, slain by concussion and hard impacts with the unyielding metal of the tank’s interior.
The destruction of the bridge was the signal for mayhem to commence, and all along the route of advance, Soviet troopers revealed themselves, raining down death and destruction on the stalled Legion column.
Two of the other King Tigers took numerous hits and both added smoke and flame to the confusion, some of the escaping crewmen screaming as fire took hold on their clothing.