You come back to us on the far side of the ridge and join us here. At that time, we'll cut loose with the seventy-five to finish off whatever's left of the Ivans in the gully."
Koch nodded agreement. "Very good. I like it. They won't expect anyone to be on the far side of the gully. Should work out pretty good. Make sure you give me that minute before you cut loose with that cannon."
Splitting his men up, he gave them their instructions and took the rest down the gully with him, disappearing into the shadows of the last light.
Crackling in the distance, a Russian light machine gun answered by the rapid chatter of a German MG-42. . . .
General Oberst Hoth received the day's after action reports with a sense of forboding. Reviewing the positions of his troops, uneasiness worried at the edge of his mind. Too slow. They had not reached their objectives. Ivan was ready for them. True, they had made five miles of penetration over all, but that did not mean that the Soviet lines were penetrated—not the way they had prepared their system of ring defenses. The day had started off badly enough when Lauchert's brigade of Panthers had stalled in an undetected mine field. It took hours for the pioneers to clear a lane. All the time, Russian artillery was having a field day on the immobilized tanks. The rains of the past days had served to turn the low ground near Beresvyy into a bog where one tank after another came to a standstill with mud up to the skirts and covering the treads. The only success was the capture of Cherkakoye, where the flame throwers mounted on the Mark Ills had used their flaming hoses to good effect in burning out the houses and bunkers. The hissing jets of fire had a range of almost eighty meters and turned the inside of the Soviet bunkers into flaming ovens designed for the cooking of human flesh.
Turning off the lamp he sat on the edge of his field cot in the dark, thinking about tomorrow. The Knight's Cross glistened in the reflected light of a distant Russian flare, lighting up the night sky and then fading into a cinder and becoming one with the darkness again.
Langer watched the flare wink out. It was over to his left, where the SS men were dug in. Teacher lit his pipe, shielding the bowl with his hand. Motioning for Teacher to take his place on the turret machine gun, he clambered down and went to where Koch's infantrymen were on the ridge. Moving alongside the machine gunner, he squinted into the dark.
"Anything happening?"
A negative shake of the head was answer enough. Taking his binoculars, he focused them and slowly searched the dark. They're out there, I know it. A short muffled cry and then silence came to him out of the dark to the front.
The gunner spoke quietly. "The major said he'd take out that sniper. For my money, he should have left him alone. That Wind bastard couldn't hit anything. Now they might send up one who knows how to shoot. But the major's always had a hard-on for snipers, ever since one shot his left ball off outside Stalingrad."
Langer chuckled. " Left ball, huh? How can you be sure he can get a hard-on for anything?" The gunner smiled in the dark . . . good question.
Snick. The sound of a rifle bolt closing.
"Somewhere out there. Hard to tell how far. Sound is different at night; could be twenty meters or a hundred."
The gunner nodded. "I heard. Bet they're in the small piece of low ground to the left. He shifted his gun over to where it touched one of the stakes he had driven into the ground on each side of his weapon. They served as markers for him in the dark.
"There's another one. They're getting ready. What say we shake them up a little."
Langer thought about it for a moment. "No. We better let them make the first move. I don't want to give your gun position away too soon. We'll wait awhile. They won't be long now. I'm going back to the tank and when you're sure they are out in the open, give a whistle and I'll light them up for you."
The gunner grinned again. "Zum befehl. Hen Feldwebel (at your command)."
"You've got HE in the tube, don't you, Teacher?" The esthetic-looking scholar confirmed that they had high-explosive rounds ready and to hand.
"Good, infantry will come first. We'll have time to load for tanks when we hear them coming. I think they're going to try and surprise us first without any mortar fire, or artillery preparation. They lay that on us if they can't infiltrate."
Gus sat on the go position, ready to turn on his engine and start up. Stefan was on the hull gun waiting. Humming to himself, Manny stood ready to load whatever shell was required and Teacher entertained himself by quoting passages from Schiller to himself. Langer took the flare pistol and loaded it. A short soft whistle. Carl motioned Teacher to get on his gun while he took the MG on the turret. Raising the flare pistol, he fired a long burning arc that raced overhead like a sky rocket, leaving a trail of sparks behind it to burst into a searing flash of white light. Beneath the glow the Russians stood frozen in their tracks by the unexpected illumination.
"Fire!" Langer's MG joined that of the gunner on the ridge in sending rapid bursts of fire into the massed bodies of the Russians. The chatter of the MG's was joined by the slower cranking of the Mauser rifles of the infantrymen.
Ilye Shimilov screamed orders and the guardsmen hurled themselves at the German positions shouting "Una Stalino." The rest of the trench opened up and withering fire erupted from all guns, hosing the Russians down into dark masses of dead and dying. And still they came on with the high-speed, rapid chatter of the burp guns competing with that of the Schmeissers. And men died.
The gunners on the ridge held the Russian attack.
Ilye Shimilov screamed in frustration and shot two guardsmen in the back of the head in order to provide the others with the proper spirit. He was going to shoot a third when a bullet from a Mauser smashed into his forehead and blew most of his brains out, leaving a gaping hole you could stick a fist in. The rifleman who hit him laughed as he told his neighbor, "I told you, cut the noses off and you will blow the shit out of anything you hit. Dumdums ought to regular issue."
His dialogue ended when a grenade blew his face off and left him gurgling wetly in the bottom of the gully. The Russians to the front faded back into the dark, firing as they went. A ricochet bouncing off the turret told Langer that they were coming from the ravine now. Swinging his MG around, he waited a second and the rapid, distinct sound of Koch's MG-34 told him it was time to let go with his own. He swept the gully in front of him from side to side, his weapon joined by Stefan's in the hull. Counting slowly, he gave Koch his minute and ordered Teacher to fire the 75 mm set to the lowest position. The shells burst in the middle of a packed group of about sixty Russians, sending arms, legs and torsos into different directions. Teacher fired as fast as he could be reloaded.
The rest of the trench was involved with their own troubles and had no one to spare for them. Each had to hold his own or die. The grenadiers on the edge of the ravine turned their weapons to point down the gully and began firing and throwing grenades as fast as the pins could be pulled. Koch's group stayed on their side of the ravine to keep out of the way of the Panther's gun and continued to send a hail of fire into the Russians below. The exploding shells of the Panther tore the attackers to pieces.