The two walked the position as best they could, stopping in suitable cover to make observations of the surrounding hills and the valley below.
The frontage of the hill was nearly four kilometres, so the tour took some time, but the general defence plan had been decided beforehand, and needed little alteration, so the landsers of the 899th got themselves setup quickly.
Von Scharf and his officers had requisitioned, as well as obtained by various other less straight-forward means, extra machine-guns for their platoons, and Von Scharf himself had ‘borrowed’ an ad-hoc machine-gun platoon for his headquarters.
Even though their task was complete, and all they had to do was hold the hill and pin the enemy in place whilst other forces, north and south of the diversions moved around and bit off the salient, Von Scharf and his men were intent on taking no chances.
Parties were organised to scour the slopes for casualties, and to recover weapons and ammunition.
Abandoned Soviet equipment was policed up and stockpiled.
The German mortar platoons were called forward and, once they had toiled up the hill with their weapons, would be directed to positions that had been, until recently, occupied by their Russian counterparts.
Von Scharf settled into his bunker and accepted the scalding coffee offered to him, reading through the message pad to pick up a sense of the battlefields around him.
It made surprisingly poor reading.
Even though everything in sight was a diversion, there had been an expectation of some advances, but there were next to none worthy of the name.
‘Except us… and the pioniere boys…’
“Koenig-one, Koenig-one, Koenig-five-five, over!”
The tension in the voice was not masked by the gentle static that troubled the radio waves.
The radio operator responded.
“Koenig-one, enemy counter-attack forces spotted moving south from Hoyershausen. A force has detached and is heading towards our position, over.”
Koenig-five-five, Oberleutnant Hubert Aschmann, the 9th Company commander, was a relatively unknown quantity and was clearly rattled.
“Tell him to continue to monitor and report.”
Whilst the radio operator sent the message, Von Scharf gestured to a nearby Feldwebel.
“Hanson… take two men and get over to Nine Kompagnie.”
He took the older NCO by the arm, leading him to the entrance of the bunker.
“Keep an eye on things for me. Aschmann sounds rather… err… worried.”
Hanson understood perfectly and was soon jogging away with two men in tow.
“Koenig-five, Koenig-five, Koenig-five-three, large enemy force to our north. Tanks and infantry… counter-attacking against the bridgehead. Large enemy infantry force heading our way, looks like just under a full battalion, over.”
‘That can’t be right… surely… but it’s Keller…’
He grabbed his submachine-gun.
“Kasper, look after things here. I’m going to Keller’s front to see for myself.”
The Leutnant saluted casually and returned to logging the contact information on the battalion tactical map.
Kasper Janjowski was a former POW, once of the 340th Volks-Grenadiere Division, captured by the Americans during the Battle of the Bulge.
Whilst he bore solely the Iron Cross Second class, he exuded a confidence and calmness that had ensured he was quickly trusted by those around him.
He was also the smallest officer any of them had ever seen, being only a cigarette paper over one and a half metres.
In Von Scharf’s absence, he forwarded the new contact reports to Regimental Headquarters, where the news was greeted with a mixture of alarm and scepticism.
A report from 8th Company added to the growing feeling that something worrying was about to happen.
“Where’s the fire, Hermann?”
Keller said nothing, but hastily ducked into a small trench that led from his command position, gesturing for Von Scharf to follow.
Keeping low, the two moved quickly along the earthwork and into a covered observation post, from where two further trenches led off, one to a position occupied by a machine-gun crew who were clearly alert and ready for action.
Gently pulling aside part of the foliage that camouflaged the position, Keller invited his commander to take a look. Although the sounds of battle had been growing the closer he had moved to the edge of the hill, he was still surprised by what greeted his eyes.
“Verdammt!”
“Like I said, Herr Hauptmann, they’re hitting the bridgehead units… and winning as I see it. Look to the right and you’ll see the bastards who have us in mind.”
“Hurensohn!”
As they were alone, Keller felt duty bound to indulge in some humour.
“I love you too, Herr Hauptmann, but now is not the time.”
Von Scharf stayed focussed on the large movement of infantry.
“The mortars’ll be ready soon, but I suggest we don’t provoke them for the moment…”
He looked at his friend, “Just in case it’s not us they’re after.”
In truth, there was little chance that they intended to go around the 3rd Battalion, and both men knew it.
“Well, at least we’ll discharge our mission, Herr Hauptmann. Consider the enemy suitably distracted by our presence. High Command never mentioned that there were thousands of the bastards, and that they were full of fight though, did they?”
Von Scharf coughed politely.
“Cigarette?”
He took the offered smoke, checking that the bunker would disperse the smoke without drawing attention to their position. It was a Soviet bunker, so he didn’t expect a problem. The Russian knew how to build a bunker fit for purpose.
He returned to view the goings-on on the Saale.
“Mein Gott, the bridges are down, they’re cut off!”
Two kilometres away, the situation had changed dramatically.
“The bastards have organised a counter-attack damned quickly…”
He left the though hanging there as his mind came up with another possibility.
Keller’s eyes narrowed as the evidence of his eyes also suggested something extremely unpalatable.
“Mein Gott… it’s not a counter-attack, Hermann. We’ve only walked into a fucking Soviet assault force.”
The two took to their heels and headed back to Keller’s command position, Von Scharf issuing orders on the way.
Pausing to shake hands, the two went their separate ways; Keller to get to his radio and send out the warning, Von Scharf to get back to his headquarters and get ready to organise the defence of Height 462 against a mixed armoured and infantry force much larger than had been anticipated.
That enemy force was better known as the 11th Guards Tank Corps, a veteran formation that had suffered less than most from the privations of winter and poor supply.
The Corps had also been no more than lightly engaged since the early months of the war, and was at nearly 80% strength, considerably more than most major frontline formations in the Red Army.
Von Scharf and Keller were right.
From their position, they had the benefit of seeing the real Soviet strength, something that was denied to the units dying on the Saale or fighting in Salzhemmendorf.
The intended distraction attacks had blundered into the waiting 11th Guards, whose own attack was scheduled to start that evening, once the sun had disappeared.