7e RDM’s radio sprung into life, requesting a situation report; the reply added to the confusion at base, as the whole unit was still stalled south of the Osterbach.
“Ritter-one-four, Ritter-one-four, Anton, over.”
“Anton, Ritter-one-four, go ahead, over.”
“Ritter-one-four. All units Rotkopf are stalled at point seven, repeat, all units Rotkopf still at point seven. Confirm identity of units to your front immediately, over.”
Lieutenant Laurenz threw his cigarette away and brought up his field glasses, this time using them to actually scrutinize the force that had appeared out of the trees, rather than just for a cursory examination.
“Scheisse!”
In his anger, he thumbed the throat microphone heavily.
“Anton, Ritter-one-four, force to front is Soviet armour and infantry, engaging, over.”
He switched channels immediately.
“Achtung! All units Ritter, enemy to front. Engage immediately, out.”
His ears were filled with the acknowledgements of the other tank commanders and the shouts of his own crew, as the gunner and loader made their reports, and the driver revved the Maybach engine, making sure he was ready for any movement order.
The amphibious unit suddenly had more to worry about than the desultory fire coming from the woods to their front.
Voices were raised in alarm as some soldiers identified the oncoming vehicles as enemy, or, more accurately, as not of the Legion.
Kon, sensing his discovery, ordered all vehicles to open fire, selecting a large amphibious vehicle as his first target.
The 130mm shell demolished the LVT, leaving precious little to mark its existence, and nothing in the slightest bit recognisable of the men who had been aboard it.
The other IS-IV managed to miss, the shell streaking through the target-rich area and ploughing into the ground a few hundred metres beyond.
Either side, the ZSUs commenced sending streams of heavy calibre bullets into the throng, cutting men and vehicles to pieces with the volume of fire, each DShKM mounting capable of flinging over three thousand rounds per minute at its enemies.
The noise was tremendous, but still not enough to mask the passage of high-velocity shells overhead.
Incredibly, the Legion tigers all missed with their first shots, the armour-piercing rounds serving only to announce the presence of unsuspected enemies on the western heights.
Kon, conscious of a lack of heavy opposition to his front, ordered the two IS-IVs to swing left, leaving the ZSUs to finish up the massacre of the amphibious unit.
To add to their problems, T34s slid out of the trees into firing positions, adding weight of shell to the streams of heavy machine gun bullets.
Kon could still see nothing on the heights and knew the enemy would get another shot in before he could use the advantage offered by his 130mm.
‘There!’
The muzzle flash gave him a point to concentrate on, and his sight revealed enough for him to fire at.
“Gunner, target tank, gun left eight degrees, range six-five-oh.”
The turret whirred briefly.
“No target.”
“The hedge, comrade, look at the hedge.”
The ‘hedge’ spat another shell downrange, and the white blob quickly grew large in both commander’s and gunner’s sights.
The clang was tremendous, but the shell failed to penetrate and, for the observers, flew spectacularly skywards, disappearing from view.
“Identified… firing…”
The vehicle almost staggered, losing forward momentum, as the huge 130mm flew back in its mount.
The shell missed.
Kon examined the lie of the land.
“Driver, move left… to that heap…”
The IS-IV slipped in behind the pile of something unmentionable, clearly the by-product of a thousand livestock.
The breech on the huge gun clanged shut.
Another shell struck the turret front and, again, deflected off without causing noticeable harm.
“Identified… firing…”
The 130mm tank version of the Soviet naval gun had been refined, with deeper rifling, an improved breech, an auto loading mechanism, and superior optics, making it potentially, the best gun on the modern battlefield.
Its weakness was in its ammunition, which failed to measure up to the potential offered by the huge gun.
None the less, the armour-piercing shell punched through the frontal plate of the Tiger I, exploding inside the tank, level with the right ear of the driver.
The Tiger came apart spectacularly, as the internal explosion set off other forces, ripping open the fifty-six ton tank like it was a balsa wood model.
The Soviet tankers celebrated their victory, halting only when another shell hammered into their frontal plate, causing many of the internal lights to fail.
‘Time to move.’
“Driver, move out left… head for the road… then full speed into the trees.”
Kon saw a way to get round the flank of the enemy, moving back towards the ZSUs he had left to cover his rear.
Laurenz completed his radio report and returned to fighting his tank.
“Leave that one, target, tank, left two degrees, range six hundred.”
“On.”
“Fire.”
The 88mm struck the IS-IV on the front plate, but the tank was expertly angled, giving the heavy tank the maximum protection, and another shell disappeared into the ether with no lasting effect.
To Laurenz’s left, the surviving Tiger I scored a direct hit on the nearest ZSU.
The IS-based ZSU-12-6 stopped dead, its engine wrecked by the passage of the tank shell, and was immediately abandoned by its crew, who sought cover from the vengeful Frenchmen of 1er BAS.
In an instant, the other ZSU realised its predicament, and dodged back behind a line of small trees.
The desperate manoeuvre did not save it, as the Tiger hit the gun mount with an armour-piercing round, smashing metal and flesh, and creating a mist of deadly metal fragments that claimed more lives.
The severely damaged ZSU made off, jinking to avoid further hits.
It escaped, aided by the fact that more Soviet armour was presenting itself on the east bank of the Fulda River.
Laurenz heard the squawk box alert him to the presence of someone outside the tank, and lifted the handset, leaving his gunner to fight the tank.
It was the deputy commander of the 4e RACE.
“Laurenz, we’re set up and ready to engage. Just making sure you aren’t going to move forward if we start sending our wasps down the hill.”
Nothing could have been further from his mind at that time, so Laurenz was able to reassure the Lieutenant.
The single Pak40 attached to the RACE lashed out at the assembling T34s, without success, and attracted a volley of shots that, while they missed, unnerved the crew for some time to come.
‘Assembling? They’re assembling… for what?’
Laurenz’s mind idly debated what he was seeing, as well as the problem of the ‘whatever the big bastard was to his front’, and the other one that had skipped off to his right.
Ending his exchange with the anti-tank officer, Laurenz decided he had to do something about the missing tank, and switched to the local net.
“Ritter-two-one, Ritter-two-one, Ritter-one-four, over.”
The terse acknowledgement was accompanied by the sound of the other Tiger’s 88mm firing, and the howls from the successful crew.
To his front, the damaged ZSU was hit again, and this time started to burn.
“Ritter-one-four, Ritter-two-one receiving, over.”
He quickly checked and could see no sign of the missing Soviet tank.
“Ritter-two-one, that other bastard disappeared off to the right and into the woods. Take your tank and knock him out. Keep him out of point five at all costs… and don’t let him get behind us, over.”