They appeared to be artillery pieces but these were the strangest pieces von Schroif had ever seen. The guns were multi-barrelled with short tubes that were arranged like the chambers of an old six-shooter revolver. Each of the six guns was swiftly unlimbered and placed in position by its crew, which appeared to consist of four men. The large calibre ammunition was stacked within easy reach to the left and right of the strange guns. The crews were loading the guns and von Schroif watched with interest as the shells were introduced two at a time, beginning with the lower barrels and continuing upward. Meanwhile, foxholes were being finished.
The spreading rumours of new and formidable developments in German ordnance had reached the ears of everyone in the Wehrmacht. The word was that spectacular results were being achieved with the six-barrelled tubular projector. This was von Schroif’s first close-up glimpse of the new wonder weapon and Captain Grunewald welcomed him to a rapid tour of inspection.
“As you can see, the projector is mounted on a rubber-tired artillery chassis with a split trail,” said Grunewald with loving pride.
“Is the barrel rifled?” asked von Schroif with professional interest.
“No, Hauptsturmführer, there is no rifling; the projectiles are guided by three rails that run down the inside of the barrels. This reduces the calibre to approximately 150 mm. You will note that the barrels are open-breeched.”
“I had noticed that,” replied von Schroif.
“So this is no ordinary shell,” continued Grunewald, “it’s a rocket, Wotan’s rocket from hell!”
“Well, we would certainly welcome his help,” said von Schroif.
“It’s the very latest in military technology,” said Grunewald, “but I have to admit, the propellant is surprisingly old-fashioned. It’s actually slow-burning black powder, such as Frederick the Great would have recognised. Each round uses six kilograms of high-explosive, set behind the nose cap. This propellant generates gas through twenty-six jets set at an angle. As a result, the projectiles rotate and travel at an ever-increasing speed, starting with the rocket blast. The burster, which is in the rear two-sevenths of the projectile, has its own time fuse.”
“Does it have a long range?” enquired von Schroif.
“The maximum range is said to be about seven kilometres, but if we need to hit a target we like to be no more than two kilometres behind the front.”
“It would be a brave man to pull the lanyard with that lot set to go off!” observed von Schroif with a flicker of a smile.
“There’s no lanyard,” replied the earnest young captain. “We like to be as far away as possible. The barrels are fired electrically, from a safe distance.” Grunewald pointed to the men digging trenches, which were already deep enough to conceal a man in a standing position. Each trench had been dug in text book fashion, about 10 to 15 metres to the side and rear of the projector.
“All six barrels are fired at once?” enquired von Schroif.
“No, they are never fired simultaneously. The blast from six rockets at once would undoubtedly capsize the weapon. The order of fire is fixed at 1–4–6–2–3–5,” replied the intense Captain Grunewald with the air of a man who was deeply proud of his expertise and anxious to share his passion. “The sighting and elevating mechanisms are located on the left-hand side of the barrels, immediately over this wheel, and are protected by this light-metal hinged box cover, which is raised like this when the weapon is to be used.”
Noting that he had the full interest of his audience, the captain continued with his exhaustive exposition.
“As you can see, each barrel has a metal hook at the breech to hold the projectile in place, and a sparking device to ignite the rocket charge. This sparker can be turned to one side to permit loading and then turned back so that the ‘spark jump’ is directed to an electrical igniter placed in one of 24 rocket blast openings located on the projectile, about one-third of the way up from the base. About one-third of the length of the projectile extends below the breech of the weapon.”
The enthusiastic captain now turned his attention to the projectile itself, which von Schroif noted resembled a small torpedo—without propeller or tail fins. The base of each was flat, with slightly rounded edges.
“You will note, Hauptsturmführer, that the rocket jets are located about one-third of the way up the projectile from the base, and encircle the casing. The jets are at an angle with the axis of the projectile so as to impart rotation in flight, in ‘turbine’ fashion. The ingenious thing about the construction of the missiles is that the propelling charge is housed in the forward part of the rocket. A detonating fuse is located in the base of the projectile to detonate the high-explosive charge. In this way, on impact, the high-explosive is set off above ground when the nose of the projectile penetrates the soil, making for a much more destructive blast area.”
“Is it an efficient operation?” asked von Schroif.
“I like to think so. The gunners will remain in these foxholes while the weapon is being fired by electrical ignition. Within 10 seconds my battery can fire 36 projectiles. These make a kind of droning pipe-organ sound as they leave the barrels and, while in flight, leave a trail of smoke. After a salvo has been fired, the crew quickly returns to its projectors and reloads them.”
“Thank you, Captain. That was most informative. I await the results of the first firing in anger with interest. It sounds terrific, but I regret that I am likely to be otherwise engaged,” said von Schroif, gesturing towards his waiting StuGs. “When you begin the barrage on the fortress, please make sure not to hit my vehicles!” With that, he hopped aboard the waiting half-track.
Slipping down for a brief moment into the cramped interior, von Schroif was painfully aware of the smaller space even than in the fighting compartment of the StuG which housed the four man crew. The jumble of maps, radio equipment and bodies was quite a squash and he gratefully rose again to his command position in the open hatch.
Rumours abound in every army. Back in late ’39, the rumour had gone round that von Schroif and his men were to be equipped with tanks. He had shown what he and Knispel could do even with the ridiculous Panzer I way back in Spain and the progression from armoured cars to tanks had seemed logical. The fact that the issue of the new Panzer III had eluded them had come as a blow at the time, but they had been seconded to the Wehrmacht and found themselves in the first of the StuGs and had rumbled into battle with the prototype. None of them could have predicted its effectiveness in France the previous year or in Greece just a few weeks ago.
Now, of course, the original feelings of disappointment had been replaced with a newfound sense of pride, but still von Schroif wished they could be with Guderian just now, riding with the panzers! That was where the glory and the accolades were sure to be found, that was the tip of the spear! Aimed at Moscow, Guderian and his panzers were the modern equivalent of the Teutonic knights, leading the charge against the Slavic hordes, creating the Grossraum, the new living space for the German people, the foundations for the Third Empire which would last a thousand years! There was no point in wishing for the unattainable though. He and his men had their humdrum orders to support the 45th Infantry Division for the second attack of his career on the fortress at Brest-Litovsk.
Von Schroif looked at his watch again, not so much as to find the time but to take his mind off the frustration of not being at the very cutting edge of the greatest operation in German military history. 03:00◦— still fifteen minutes to go….