“Another half of a kilometer beyond those ruined farmhouses and out-buildings. Approximately one kilometer in total. Khan is out there now, setting up a firing position. You will want to take the remainder of the crew back to the repair depot and take up positions. Khan and I will attempt to herd the tank over in that direction. With any luck, Vogel and I will keep Red Vengeance contained within this immediate area and restrict its movement, so it doesn’t withdraw to an open space and dominate the surroundings.”
“And if not?”
“Then we will have to improvise, Lieutenant. I’ll risk getting as close as possible.”
“Offering the scout car as bait this time?” Voss asked.
“No, but certainly as the most logical target—but not without adequate cover. I want to relish the tank’s destruction, not succumb to it,” Falkenstein replied.
It only stood to reason, Voss knew, that after so much time spent and so many lives lost, Falkenstein would want to savor the final abuses upon the object of which he had poured so much hatred.
“This is our last chance, Voss. I want you and Corporal Angst to be especially aware of this fact.” In a manner of unprecedented subtlety, Falkenstein reminded the lieutenant of his responsibility for the deaths of the two crewmen and the women. Voss had given orders that were not his to give and broke radio silence. These two infractions irked the captain more than the parlor room showdown he’d attempted earlier. That he could almost forgive, under circumstances of extreme stress and fatigue. But however well-intentioned and misguided his motivations were, Voss would have to make good for his complicity for the casualties.
“Corporal Angst and I will make a supreme effort. Will that be all, Captain?”
“This may take some time. The men should take the opportunity to rest up, by turns, while Khan prepares.”
Voss wished the captain luck, then roused the three grenadiers and led them out the rear of the warehouse, along the exterior wall. At brief intervals, one man at a time, they crossed over the open stretch of ground before dropping behind the damaged sheds for cover. The repair garage at the north end was the closest, and that was where he had them converge. He called a short briefing of his own to inform them of the captain’s plan. “There is no guarantee how Red Vengeance will react or even if it can be coaxed before daylight. Detwiler, I want you and Mueller at the south end of the depot, but no further than the machine shop. Keep out of the maintenance facility building—it offers no protection whatsoever. Angst, you will stay close to me and do exactly as I tell you. Most important of all, be aware of the scout car. It will be firing upon the tank at every opportunity. The captain will try to drive the tank toward us, so don’t take any unnecessary risks out in the open. Be absolutely sure of the scout car’s position and where it’s firing. The purpose is to render the tank immobile and then finish it off, not get cut in half by a 20 mm shell.” He then had the men discard every piece of nonessential equipment and paraphernalia. They would all have to work fast and loose when the time came. Per the lieutenant’s instructions, Angst was given a magnetic mine from the sack, and Detwiler kept the rest. The satchel charge was given to Mueller as along with his grenade bundle. “Good luck, fellows. Make no mistakes.” Detwiler and Mueller exited the garage at the opposite end. While Voss unbuckled the shoulder harness of the flamethrower, Angst took some of the weight of the double fuel canisters and helped set it down on the concrete floor. The rain had let up but, feeling chilled, Angst wished he had brought his shelter half along. He couldn’t remember where he’d left it and asked to return to the wrecked Hanomag and look. The lieutenant forbade him and instead removed his own camouflage field jacket for Angst to wear. The inside of the jacket was warm. Voss suggested they take turns getting some rest. “I’ll wake you in an hour,” he said. The cement flooring was damp and cold, so Angst took a section of broken door panel to sit on. Every muscle and joint ached, yet his mind was clear and overactive. He dreaded the upcoming battle, but the fight was better than the lull, because it didn’t allow him time to think. All he could do at the moment was to think of Braun, Monika, and the final look of horror on Schmidt’s face. When he was engaged in the fighting, he thought of nothing but getting even, but now the time afforded him nothing but worry over his fate. If his friends could be destroyed so easily, in the blink of an eye, what chance would he possibly have? He had the desire to talk, about nothing in particular, but Voss was not in the mood. He had his own manner of wrestling with what lay ahead. “Calm yourself,” Voss said, as he listened for any clues of the tank’s intent. Calm myself, Angst thought, as his nerves bundled tightly into a fist of anticipation.
Vogel drained the last drops of gasoline into the fuel tank and set the empty can aside. He removed all the external equipment on the vehicle—the heavy tools from the toolbox, the spare tire—to lighten the load. “Everything in working order, Klaus?” the captain asked.
“Like a charm, sir.”
“You’ve managed to extricate me out of many difficult situations because of your skill driving that thing. Now the true test of your abilities. This time we will enter straight into the fire.”
Vogel patted the armored siding. “She’s a good machine, Captain.”
Falkenstein continued to make small talk for a while longer, mainly about the weather and the damp chill in the air and how long it would take before Khan was ready to act. This was unusual for the captain, Vogel thought; perhaps he was displaying signs of nerves. He climbed into the turret, verified that the ammunition rack was stocked to capacity with twenty-round magazines of armor-piercing shells, and double-checked the weapon to see that it was in perfect operational condition. The long wait was oppressive, so Vogel busied himself with a string of chores, some necessary and others superfluous, doing anything to quell the anticipation. Straight into the fire…the captain’s words echoed in his ears. We could get burned this time, he thought.
47
A dull thud resounded in the distance, followed by a sharp metallic knock. Moments passed, and the same noise was repeated. Khan had fired off two rounds from the antitank rifle. The tank’s searchlight came to life, and the beam arced from left to right, seeking a target. The diesel coughed, and then the rattle and clank of ribbed tracks sloughed through the saturated ground. Red Vengeance was on the move. The scout car idled as Falkenstein climbed aboard and entered the turret. Vogel eased the vehicle out of the warehouse bay, stopped, and waited. The glare from the searchlight illuminated the churned soil as Red Vengeance drove toward the railroad tracks. The turret swiveled from nine to three o’clock in anticipation of where the next threat would originate. Never before had the machine appeared more animalistic than now, with its piglike snout on the alert. When the cannon shifted its aim toward the opposite direction, Falkenstein gave the order, and the scout car raced from the warehouse entrance to the next cover position, the coal elevator. Vogel remained on the west side of the tracks but kept the vehicle in line with the tall, narrow structure. He nosed forward at the captain’s command. The 20 mm cannon fired off a succession of rounds at the tank’s right flank. The small, armor-piercing shells sparked against the thick, armored hide. Falkenstein knew he was out of effective range and had to get closer. Before the turret swiveled back to three o’clock to bring its gun to bear on the exposed scout car, Vogel shifted into reverse and braked behind the elevator. The tank no longer possessed the same speed and maneuverability it once had. Reaction time showed signs of sluggishness, but the machine wasn’t stupid. No sooner had the scout car braked than an armor-piercing shell punched a hole through the elevator siding. The air was displaced above Falkenstein’s head as the projectile streaked by like a comet. Vogel was in tune with the situation. They only had seconds as the tank slipped in behind the slag heaps, where it was protected but would have difficulty aiming a killing shot. Without needing the captain to tell him to do so, Vogel turned about and sped north, down the gravel road, and turned left to the back end of the warehouse before another round could be loaded, sighted, and fired. When the shell did strike, the scout car was safely out of the way. Once past the slag heaps, Red Vengeance turned sharply to the right, crossed the tracks, and continued down the gravel drive that led to the warehouse entrance.