The work was no more than ten minutes old before the door burst open and a familiar, yet unwelcome face arrived.
NKVD Leytenant General Seraphim Dustov strode in, backed with the authority of Stalin’s direct order, and flanked by two NKVD soldiers with PPDs.
None of the GRU personnel moved a muscle and a sudden tension filled the room.
“Comrade Leytenant General Dustov? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
For all her astuteness in the world of military intelligence, Nazarbayeva was still very much a novice in the political side of matters, and had genuinely no idea as to why Dustov had presented himself.
“Comrade Nazarbayeva, I possess orders for you, direct from the Secretary General, orders that I am required to pass in person, and then assist you in fully discharging.”
Poboshkin accepted the document and, at a simple nod from Nazarbayeva, opened and read it.
The atmosphere in the room was extremely charged and the tension increased during the silent examination. More than one hand felt for a holster to reassure the wearer as to the presence of a pistol, and the response of the two NKVD soldiers, easing their sub-machine guns, was automatic.
“Comrade General, this order requires you to hand over to your deputy and return to Moscow immediately, in order to explain the events that culminated in this morning’s assassination attempt.”
He held out the message form to Nazarbayeva, who ran a cursory eye over it.
She, as had Poboshkin, noted the absence of the word ‘arrest’.
“Right. Comrade Poboshkin, please assemble the full file on Makarenko ready for me to take to Moscow. Comrade Orlov,” she nodded at her 2IC, “Will continue to run this group and bring the Amethyst file to order, ready for my return. Good day.”
The room leapt to attention as Tatiana Nazarbayeva strode out, closely followed by the NKVD escort.
By 1100 hrs, she was airborne.
Knocke stayed silent, but his eyes narrowed as he took in the sight.
The other tank commanders offered no comments.
Braun was less inclined to silence.
“What the hell is that?”
Beveren conceded the floor to the man in the greasy overalls.
Ex-SS Hauptsturmfuhrer Walter Fiedler wiped his hands with an ever-present piece of cotton waste and gestured to the vehicle that was rapidly approaching. With the genuine enthusiasm common to engineers of all nations, he gleefully set about informing the assembly
“Kameraden, let me introduce the Wolf, a marriage between the Panther and Panzer IV. Simple enough, once the turret ring installation has been welded in place. Tests show her to be nearly ten kilometres an hour faster than the Panther, and we have shoehorned an extra eleven rounds into the hull.”
The new tank, Panzer IV turret on a Panther hull, slowed and changed direction, presenting a side view to the assembled group.
The addition of mesh side armour, or Schürzen, added to proof against weapons like the bazooka or panzerfaust, gave the assembly a business-like look.
“We have eight of these so far, Kameraden, and my little helpers tell me there are more Panther hulls on the way yet. It is serviceable Panther turrets that we lack, hence this conversion.”
A number of the officers and NCOs approached the Wolf and looked it over with professional, experienced eyes.
Knocke could read Fiedler’s excitement.
“What else do you have for us, Hauptsturmfuhrer?”
“Sir, the orders were quite clear. Get as many vehicles up and running as possible, maximising firepower at all times. My unit decided that we’d do things as simply as possible. Excuse me.”
Fiedler waved his arms at the man posted on the corner, who in turn waved forward the next vehicle.
Actually, vehicles.
What, at first, appeared to be a standard 251 half-track, rounded the bend.
The Puma turret was soon recognisable, as was the new armoured structure on the rear compartment.
“We call this one the Antilope, Sir. Initially, we had an issue with top heavy weight, but cut down the additional plate so it’s manageable now.”
Again, the vehicle was graced with a full set of protective mesh screens.
“How many?”
“Five, Sir.”
The second 251, its own screens hung with freshly-cut vegetation, sported a deadly looking weapon, instantly recognisable as the potent 88mm KwK43.
“Don’t know why we didn’t have these when we were fighting the bastards the first time round, Kameraden. Surprisingly easy to shift over from a Nashorne. We have four of these, we call them Hundchen, and I think we may be able to manage another one in time, Sir.”
The marriage looked extremely deadly.
Knocke kept his feet on the ground.
“How much ammunition, Hauptsturmfuhrer?”
Appreciating the instincts of his senior officer, Fiedler could only concede with grace.
“That’s its Achilles heel, Sir. At the moment, we can only safely store fifteen rounds internally.”
That made a difference, but Fiedler hadn’t finished yet.
“However, Sir, we think that by adapting some American jeep trailers, we can store another twenty or so to be towed behind.”
That would make a difference in combat, but would bring its own problems with manoeuvrability.
“Anything else for us, Hauptsturmfuhrer?”
“We’re still working on a combination mount for the 251, Sir. Nebelwerfer hull mount from the Maultier, with additional six wurfrahmen 40 carried, just to up the capability of the support elements.”
“Sounds interesting, Fiedler. Still working on it?”
“Yes, Sir. We have four suitable vehicles lined up but the traversing gear is proving a problem on the prototype. Nothing we won’t solve, Sir.”
“Excellent work, Hauptsturmfuhrer. Pass on our congratulations and thanks to your crews…”
Knocke stopped, understanding that there was more to come.
“Sir, we’ve managed to get five Panthers roadworthy and combat ready. They are ready for your crews to take now. We also acquired some extra vehicles, similarly ready for you to take now.”
The Workshop officer waved at the corner man, who was clearly waiting for this moment.
The roar of something powerful became apparent, as did the cloud of smoke from the twenty-three litre gasoline engine that propelled the Porsche-turreted Tiger II into view.
Three others, all Henschell versions, followed behind, and, at the end of the procession, were the vehicles that Fiedler was clearly the most proud of.
It was Captaine Felix Jorgensen, the ex-Frundsberg Panzerjager officer, who noticed first.
“What’ve you done with that JagdPanther?”
Part of his voice betrayed his disgust that the fine lines of the Panther-based tank destroyer had been messed with, whilst part of his voice recorded the new armament the vehicle carried.
“That, Felix, is the Einhorn, complete with a 128mm. We salvaged the guns from some JagdTigers. We had to increase the space because of the breech and recoil. The speed has dropped a little, but not much. We’ve managed to get forty-one rounds on board her too.”
The Unicorn looked positively deadly.
“Just the one?”
“Three more nearly ready, Felix.”
Knocke interrupted the bonhomie.
“Hauptsturmfuhrer, you have a complete list of vehicles that are ready to hand over to us?”
“Apologies, Brigadefuhrer.”
Fielder removed the top two sheets from his folder and handed them to Knocke.