“Field Marshal,” Baeck said finally. “What are your orders?”
Rommel’s eyes were elsewhere. Perhaps he was contemplating the complete collapse of his career along with the lodgement. The forces out along the defence line were hopelessly small for the task of blocking every British attack. “They promised that we would have all the resupply…”
His head snapped up suddenly. “I want you to order a general retreat from the Colchester Line and the other outer defence lines,” he ordered. “We’ll fall back on Ipswich and use the defences there to buy time.”
Baeck didn’t want to say it, but there was no choice. Falling back on Ipswich would allow the Wehrmacht to create a smaller defensive line that could be more easily defended once they concentrated their forces.
More reports came in. British aircraft had broken through the Luftwaffe’s perimeter and had strafed a company of German soldiers on the ground. “We cannot leave our forces strung out to be destroyed piecemeal. Order Das Reich to move forward and cover the withdrawal back to Ipswich. That British assault force is likely to be the most important to foil.”
Baeck nodded and said, “Jawohl, I shall issue the orders at once.”
In the distance, the noise of shellfire grew louder. “Field Marshal, should we not prepare our own retreat to Ipswich?”
“I suppose,” Rommel said, his mind clearly heading elsewhere. “Send everyone who isn’t essential to Ipswich now, and we’ll follow them if the British bring this place under direct threat.”
Obergruppenführer Dolphus Taenberger cursed as he finally received his orders. It had taken nearly a fortnight to reorganise Das Reich into something the Waffen-SS could be proud of and now he was being ordered to stand his ground and prevent the British from sealing up a neat little trap for the German forces. He’d listened to the reports and read between the line. The British had punched a massive hole in the German defence line and were well on their way to encircling the German forces before they could escape. Whatever shine Rommel tried to put on it, it was defeat, and the best Das Reich could do was prevent the retreat from turning into a complete rout.
“Advance,” he barked, and the massive force rumbled into motion. Das Reich, like all of the redesigned Waffen-SS forces, was almost a small army in its own right. It was a combination of an oversized Panzer Division, an infantry division and a small artillery section. They were supposed to have the best equipment and its own private air force, but with the war situation having taken such a turn, they were forced to improvise more than Taenberger would have liked.
They were already weaker than he cared to be, and some of his men hadn’t trained with the remainder of Das Reich in fact, were little more than glorified thugs and bullyboys. They might have worn the same uniform as Taenberger himself, but they would never have qualified for the Waffen-SS. Their only reason for existing was to keep subject populations down. The only men lower than them were the extermination squads.
He raised his binoculars as he peered into the distance. The British assault was fading, judging from the declining number of explosions in the distance, but he was experienced enough to know what that meant. The British advancing forces were so close to the German forces that the British guns were holding their fire, in fear of accidentally slaughtering their own forces. The British may have beaten 7th Panzer, but Das Reich was a whole different kettle of fish.
A red-hot pain tore through his shoulder, and he gasped in pain, just as the infantry unleashed a hail of shots into a small tree. An Englishman tumbled out of the tree, breaking his neck as he hit the ground. The infantry dismounted and attacked, discovering several more armed British civilians trying to hide. Taenberger allowed one of the medical corps-men to bandage his wound, commenting on how the Gruppenfuhrer should go to the rear with such a wound, but he glared the corps-man into silence. There were tales of SS men who had fought on despite the most punishing wounds, and he wasn’t going to leave his men just because he’d been shot.
The infantry held up the British civilians for his attention. Taenberger dismissed any thought of them being a stay-behind unit at once; their tactical thinking had been appalling. They should have been able to kill him from a much longer range with that weapon; the Waffen-SS didn’t think highly of many British weapons, but the Haig Sniper Rifle was definitely respected. There were four of them in all, three of them young men and one young women, all trembling in fear.
Taenberger didn’t bother to mince words. “Where do you come from?”
“Down there,” one of the men said, trying to put a protective arm around the girl. His captor smacked him on the head; Taenberger nodded in approval. Judging from their appearance, they were brother and sister, rather than lovers. “Sir, I…”
“Shut up,” Taenberger commanded. He glanced around at the tree. “Hang them, quickly.”
He ignored their pleading screams, as the infantry strung them up quickly and efficiently. The pain in his shoulder was making it hard for him to think straight. The SS rules of engagement were very clear. A village that harboured insurgents was to be destroyed to discourage the others. Rommel wouldn’t be happy, but judging by the progress of the war, Rommel would likely be removed from command soon. He summoned his orderly, ordered a map, and examined it quickly. they should just have enough time.
Das Reich left the four bodies dangling in the breeze and advanced against the town. The civilian population was trying to keep their heads down, but it didn’t save them, not when the infantrymen broke into houses and arrested everyone over the age of ten. There was some desperate fighting, but without any real weapons, it could only have one outcome. Das Reich had carried out similar tactics in Russia; by now, despite the Aryan appearance of the villagers, they were hardened to their task.
“Burn them,” Taenberger ordered, as his men finished herding the adults into the church. The flame-thrower unit set the church ablaze as Taenberger remembered mocking the assignment. Now, he had a lopsided grin on his face as the church became an inferno. The SS had destroyed churches in Russia and it pleased Taenberger to watch as the small building burned, taking its entire congregation with it. The flames would probably spread further, perhaps burning down the village and the children, but Taenberger no longer cared. The pain in his shoulder was throbbing.
He barked orders and Das Reich commenced moving again, spreading out and trying to avoid possible mines. They encountered soldiers and almost opened fire before they realised that they were Germans, fleeing the battlefield, heading back to the lines around Ipswich. Taenberger felt growing rage and hatred in his breast, seriously considering just opening fire and ridding the Reich of such weak stock, but that would just be wasteful. The handful of vehicles that passed Das Reich were commandeered and added to the defence line; the remaining soldiers were allowed to pass unless they wanted to stay. It wouldn’t be long before the British forces arrived… and by then, Taenberger wanted to be ready. He would have preferred to advance, but conserving resources was the order of the day…