That ravaged battalion had endured such heavy casualties that it had been withdrawn and 4th RWF had spread out to cover the full front, which was why they now found themselves in the strange position of being integrated with jocks of the Black Watch, who had arrived just in the nick of time in the previous attack.
A quick officer’s orders group had decided to wait for a definite lull before shaking the two different units out and so, for now, men with names such as Jones and MacDonald shared the same positions in and around the Hamburg Rathaus.
Over one-half of the battalion’s officers were either dead on the field or bleeding in aid stations behind the lines. Even the Lieutenant Colonel commanding the Royal Welch had been carried from the field, torn and bloody, leaving a young Major in command.
He was inexperienced but led his men well, turning up at the hottest points of contact and directing his meagre reserve forces to critical points in order to stave off defeat.
None the less for him, the sight of the ‘Legend’ rushing in with his men had been truly inspirational, which feeling quickly spread through his whole unit as word spread that Ramsey VC was fighting alongside them.
7th Battalion, The Black Watch had been temporarily detached from its parent formation to bolster the southern area of Hamburg. Each of its companies was sent to a different hotspot. In the case of the Rathaus, it was B Company, under the command of Major John Ramsey VC that arrived in the nick of time and helped drive off the surviving Russian troops.
Major Llewellyn automatically deferred to Ramsey but, as was his style, Ramsey made sure the young man knew that the Black Watch was there to assist and that the Welshman was firmly in command.
The few junior officers left were scurrying around the positions, ensuring wounded were either tended to or evacuated to an aid station, and that ammunition was distributed as needed.
An orders group was called for 1530 hrs, convening, without any intended humour, in the Bürgerschaft, the meeting chamber of the Hamburg Governing body.
Eight attendees represented the CO’s of the units defending the area defined by JungfernSteig to the northeast and StadthausBrücke in the south-west, encompassing the Rathaus, Hamburg’s Exchange Building and all the area within the northern confines of GroßeJohannisStraße, all in all an area of less than half a square kilometre.
Major Llewellyn introduced himself and then went round the group, asking each to identify themselves in turn.
Ramsey had already attracted much attention, as much for the kilt he sported and the cane he carried as for who he was and what he displayed on his chest. He needed no introduction, not even to the German Officer commanding the 4th Hamburg Defence unit, as Maior Perlmann’s 8th Fallschirmjager Division had fought the 51st Division in the Reichswald.
His unit was a true anomaly, an intact throwback to the Wehrmacht of May 1945. Originally the 3rd Batallione, Fallschirmjager Regiment 22, it had been captured and disarmed, then rearmed on 9th May and employed by the British at Bad Segeberg, sweeping the forest for armed Soviet foreign workers who were causing mischief amongst the local populace.
Perlmann was not the only man there who found it a little bizarre that a decorated Major of German paratroops, in full uniform, was stood in a briefing with British officers.
Captain Arthurs of the 1st Manchesters certainly did, for he had lost a brother at Dunkirk and an uncle on the arctic convoys. Forgive and forget was not in his nature but he understood the needs of the present crisis, so bore the hated German’s presence as best he could.
The artillery observation officer, 1st Lieutenant Ames, had already proven that he was top-notch at his job, despite being tapped by a piece of shrapnel that made it hard for him to sit down.
1st Lieutenant Ramsey, attempting humour, confirmed he was no relation to the great man and apologised for the absence of the anti-tank battery commander who could not be located.
CSM Richardson, senior rank in the ad-hoc platoon comprised of survivors of the 555th Field Company, R.E., was not cowed by being the only NCO in the room. A lot of people he had spent years with had died in the last few days and he was there to even the score, and made sure the officers all understood that.
Finally, clad in the giveaway one-piece tank crew oversuit, Acting Major Frederick Brown QC, Cambridge Blue and Olympic Polo silver medallist from the 1936 Berlin Games, capped the introductions with a flourish.
A tray of corned beef sandwiches was strategically placed to one side, and it had been drawing the attention of hungry men, the nearer the man, the more obvious the attention.
Llewellyn decided that they could work and eat. The nearest man to the prize was Ames.
“Grab a sarnie Lieutenant and pass the plate on.”
There was no need to repeat that order and the plate moved swiftly anti-clockwise, ending up with Llewellyn and offering a choice from the three left.
In an almost surreal display, all heads slowly swivelled towards the sound of one of the number enjoying the feast with a little grunt here, a contented ‘mmmm’ there.
Perlmann suddenly became aware he was the centre of attention.
He grinned widely, displaying teeth covered with the detritus of his meal and spoke in accented schoolboy English.
“It is beating horse my man!”
They could not help but laugh and the moment of levity eased the tensions of their situation. Major Ramsey later argued that it was a pivotal moment in the brief existence of what became known as ‘Llewellyn Force’, despite his own run-in with Perlmann later.
Moving to the rough hand-drawn map on the rear wall the Welsh Commander quickly ran through the defensive positions, fields of fire, artillery, and mortar support available. He updated the new arrivals on the previous Soviet tactics, pointing with his left hand, taking hurried bites of his doorstep in between sections of his briefing.
Llewellyn was adamant that each company should provide a reserve force to counter-attack any position lost or to reinforce one under extreme pressure.
Richardson strongly resisted the use of his platoon as a tactical reserve, seeking a position in the front line where he and his vengeful engineers could kill their fair share of commies. John Ramsey said nothing but prepared to intervene if it proved necessary.
It didn’t.
Major Tewdwr Llewellyn would not be moved but assured the NCO that his men would get all the action they could stand when the Soviets came again.
Ammunition was a problem but he had sent a party with the RSM back to get more, even for the German weapons of Perlmann’s unit.
Once he had finished, he sought questions from the group. Perlmann and Ramsey sought clarification of where the counter-attacking forces would be positioned but there were no other questions or suggestions as the defence was pretty straightforward. There was nowhere to run to, no room for manoeuvre, so it was a case of stand or die.
The group broke up, dispersing swiftly, inadvertently leaving Llewellyn and Ramsey with the remaining sandwiches.
Both eyed the tray and each other.
The Welshman led the way.
“Can’t let these go to waste now can we?”
Offering up the tray to his companion, he grinned.
“Be rude not to,” the end of which was slightly distorted as sandwich went from tray to lips in one easy movement.