The M27 Sheridan tanks of the 27th Canadian Armoured Regiment (The Sherbrooke Fusiliers) had stopped all along the road leading to the besieged Third Canadian Infantry Division. Night had fallen. Too many German tanks had night fighting equipment to make chancing a nocturnal firefight acceptable. Better to wait until daybreak when the Allied fighter-bombers would be swarming over the battlefield again. That was the theory, anyway.
Captain Michael Brody didn’t have much time for theory. He had even less when he could see the brigade chief of staff approaching. Although his military career hadn’t been that long, it seemed otherwise. Any length of time on the Kola Front felt like eternity and had taught him a senior officer never brought good news.
“Michael, do your boys feel like a little night-time drive under the stars?”
“Sir?”
“That’s my man. The infantry have got a wee problem and they’ve asked us for some help. Take a look at this map. There’s a dominant hill up ahead, with a house on it. Old farmhouse, probably, but it’s got thick walls and the infantry couldn’t take it without tank support. Anyway, infantry battalion commander came to me and said ‘Give us a couple of tanks old man, they’re just parked alongside the road with the crews getting cold and bored.’ I gave him a good cursing of course, told him my boys needed some sleep. Anyway, all said and done, I promised him a pair of tanks to shoot up that house for him so his men could capture it. You were my first choice for the job, good of you to volunteer. Here’s the orders, off you go.”
The Chief of Staff took off down the road again, back to the Regimental headquarters. Brody toyed briefly with the idea of shooting him with the coaxial machine gun but dismissed it. There were probably written copies of his orders back at HQ so it wouldn’t do any good.
“Sergeant, we got a job to do. There’s this little house on the hill over there, it’s on the reverse slope, I guess we could hardly see it. The krauts have an artillery observation position there. Defenses are ringed around it; trenches and a mortar battery. The infantry want us to blow it apart. We got a good HE load?” It wasn’t really a question. The sixty-odd rounds of 90mm they had on board were split evenly between HE and HVAP.
The house was indeed on the reverse slope. There were times when Brody would have preferred the old M4 Sherman with its low-velocity 75mm. The arching trajectory meant they could have dropped shots over the ridgeline. The 90mm gun was flat trajectory; the first two shots only succeeded in blowing the roof off. Then Brody and his companion tank went up the hill along with the infantry riding behind the turret. Something the Canadians had learned from the Russians; in operations like this, tank-riders were decisive. As the house rose into view, the two tanks methodically pumped more shells into it.
Behind the hill the Germans had trenches and a mortar battery. The Sheridan was almost blind when closed up. Brody, like most of the other tank commanders in the Sherbrooke Fusiliers, drove his tank with the turret hatch open. This time it paid off. The Germans hadn’t been expecting tanks at night and they were caught completely flat-footed by their appearance. While the Sheridan’s main guns blasted the little house, the bow and turret top machine guns laced tracers into the defensive positions around it. The German mortars were firing over the ridge at the infantry they assumed were making their way up the slope. It was the first time Brody had ever seen mortars close up. By the look of it, it was the first time the Germans seemed to encounter a Canadian tank at close quarters. Brody snapped out short bursts from his .50 machine gun. The big slugs tumbled the German infantry as they tried to organize a resistance to the tanks.
Behind him, Brody heard the infantry commander yelling “Go forward! Get ‘em boys!” The Canadian infantrymen jumped off the back of his tank. His driver was spun his tank left and right, trying to give the infantrymen cover as they rushed forward into the German pits and trenches. His machine gun was useless. It was too high up, and couldn’t be brought to bear close in. The powers that be had thought of that and given Brody a Capsten Mark V SMG. He sprayed it at a group of Germans who were trying to run towards the smoldering ruins of the house. Another German suddenly appeared with a Panzerfaust aimed directly at him. The infantry were too fast for him. Three of them were all over him, their bayonets and rifle butts rising and falling.
Brody had reached the mortar pits. The Germans were still trying to fight but it was hopeless. He drove over the pits to crush the mortars. His driver shifted the tank right-left-right as he crushed their crews under his tracks. Brody heard the screams from beneath him but had more important things to think about. The tank accelerated out of the pit, Brody still firing his Capsten at the Germans fleeing in front of him.
Ahead of him he saw a red light in the treeline. “Gunner, engage left! Infrared Searchlight.” The turret spun and the 90mm crashed. Almost simultaneously there was an explosion on the frontal armor. The flash blinded him and Brody felt his face burn. Ahead of him, the red light went out as both Sheridans pumped shells into the position of the half-track. That was the weakness with the German night-fighting system. They had to have infra-red searchlights to illuminate the targets. There was another brilliant flash off to the left. He heard the shell scream just in front of him. His driver didn’t need orders, he spun the tank around to face the German tank. That was another advantage of fighting opened up; when the hatch was open, everything could be seen. His crew noticed anti-tank guns as soon as they started firing, and started maneuvering at once. If they waited just one little bit they’d get hit in the side. It was bad news to be hit in the side; a frontal hit wasn’t so dangerous.
The 90mm guns crashed again. This time there was a fireball from the treeline. The German crew hadn’t been fast enough. They’d given away their position with the muzzle flash from their gun and they hadn’t cleared position fast enough. The American 90mm would make very short work of a Panzer IVK. And had.
If there were more tanks, they’d pulled back. They couldn’t save the house. If they stayed, the Canadian infantry would be all over them. The two Sheridans started backing up, moving to a position just behind the crest of the ridge where they could sit in overwatch. The infantry commander was jogging up and shouting. “Hey tracks. We’ve got a medic; you look like you could use him”
Brody felt his face. It was covered with blood and he could feel a steel fragment stuck in his cheek. He waved acknowledgement at the infantrymen. Once his tanks were in position, he decided it was time to take advantage of the offer. The first aid post pulled out the fragment and bandaged his cheek. Then they gave him a half full bottle of vodka to take away the pain.
“Anything moving down there?”
The radar screen was masked under a curious cone-like arrangement that was supposed to shut out all non-essential light and make the dim display more readable. It worked, after a fashion, but it meant that the radar operators on the F-61D Black Widows could be picked out by the circular bruise around their faces. The constant jolting of an aircraft being flown at low altitude meant that resting one’s face on anything would result in steady, minor injury.