Breakthrough (The Red Gambit Series) (23 page)

Dreihausen
B
ridge
was intact and secure
,
and Major Zvorykin set about the second part of his orders.

It was ‘B’ Company who got the warning out, suddenly aware of enemy attacking from their south
,
as more Russian infantry and tanks pressed in on Tiefenbruch and Riepshof from the east.

The carrier soldiers and the dozen men from
the
‘Bucholz’ found themselves attacked by tanks coming from Dreihausen.

Panzerfausts taught the tanks a harsh lesson and four T34’s flamed in as ma
ny minutes. The
Soviet
infantry
again dismounted and charged.

Some carriers were destroyed by tank shells
,
but five were captured as a brief close combat ended with the defenders overpowered. The Canadians, for the Russians now knew who they faced, were organised into a party and marched off to the rear at speed.

The five surviving members of
the
Kommando Bucholz
’s
Panzerfaust
group
were summarily executed as partisans.

Part of Yarishlov’s force was drawn into the fighting with ‘B’ Company
, the Canadian
perimeter swiftly became a circle
as
the unit was surrounded, along with the greater part of the Support platoon.

Radio messages screaming for support arrived in the battalion command post but the pot was empty.

‘A’ Company reported enemy infantry in Vaerlon
and also in Burgsittensen.

Some good news came from the Admin Platoon stationed in the woods south-west of Avensermoor. They
had spotted tanks to the south, probably coming from Stemmen,
which had to
make them
friendly but that
bright spot
was tempered with the fact that
efforts to make contact with the
new force
had failed
,
and so they were of limited value at the moment.

Enemy troops were pushing hard at Everstorfermoor and still the bridge was standing.

“Where is Roberts? Get him on the radio. I need him to sort that bloody mess out!”

The strain was beginning to tell as it became obvious that the Carleton & York’s were in big trouble.

“Any response from Brigade? I must have tanks and artillery support. Where’s my artillery support? The Russians are coming. Where is air eh? Where is my air?” The cigar rotated fiercely in his hand
; a hand trembling with the strain.

In truth, a calm and rational officer could not have saved the battalion from the fate Yarishlov had prepared for it, but Lascelles’ obvious decline affected everyone, a feeling of near-panic spreading through the entire battalion headquarters.

Brigade Headquarters had heard the reports and had responded, both by radio and
by dispatching physical support,
but nothing they could do would salvage the situation.

Looking at the cigar, his psychological prop, he snorted and threw it onto the map table.

Lascelles slipped under the wave
s of despair and was engulfed by
panic and terror in equal measure.

Through the mist
s
of
desperation
he heard a voice shouting outside the command tent.

“Tanks! Fucking tanks!”

These were obviously the tanks
Admin Platoon had seen
,
and a wild-eyed Lascelles dashed outside to make contact. Inside the tent
,
a shocked 1st Lieutenant tried hard to bring order to the chaos caused by his commanding officer
’s rapid breakdown
.

Lascelles
’ mad
dash caught the attention of the tank commander and he gave the contact report, his hull gunner easily locating the running figure and dropping him with a short burst. Lascalles died without understanding Admin Platoon’s error.

T
he majority of 4th Guards’ 1st B
attalion swept up and into Wümme, fanning out to the north-west and enjoying the target laden environment laid out before them.

The Carleton & York’s mortar platoon had been pumping shell after shell across the Oste in an attempt to stop that assault and had no time to reorient before direct fire from a dozen T34’s swept their position, killing
one in five
of the men in a few seconds.

From Burgsittensen in the north-west through to Dreihausen in the south-east, the Canadians were being slaughtered.

Some
6-
pounder anti-tank guns from the 1st AT Regiment had been turned
to face westwards
,
and
they
lashed out at the tanks in and around Wümme. The others started to seek targets in the area around
Tostedt
Land
, finding it hard to distinguish between friend and foe in the failing light.

             
Zvorykin
had under-estimated the distance and
it
had taken
him
longer than he had expected to move silently up the south bank of the
Wümme
River
.

To his
dismay,
he witnessed one enemy gun find a target and spared a horrified, yet fascinated moment to watch the
destroyed
vehicle burn.

             
Checking his map he consulted his pre-noted coordinates and called for his radio.

             
“
Sem’ya
-Two-Zero
,
Sem’ya
-Two-Zero
, this is
Brat-Three-K
rasnyi over.”

The radio crackled with a response.

Rechecking his map
,
Zvorykin looked at the scene in front of him and satisfied himself that he was calling it in correctly.

“Sem’
ya
-Two-Zero
,
Sem’ya
-Two-Zero
, target
koza, repeat target koza.
Brat-Three-K
rasnyi over.”

The operator on the other end repeated the order and waited.

Zvorykin waited too.

The sound of approaching shells gained precedence over the other sounds of battle
,
and Zvorykin was rewarded with a grandstand view of a regimental artillery strike on a position one kilometre in length.

“Sem’ya
-Two-Zero
, Sem’ya
-Two-Zero
. Confirm koza is on target.
Brat-Three-K
rasnyi over.”

The exhausted M
ajor relaxed with a cigarette as he watched the enemy anti-tank gunners destroyed by artillery fire of his making.

Technically
,
i
t was all over, although there w
as still more dying to be done.

T
he Canadians had been overrun and wiped out.

‘A’ Company had folded and surrendered, outnumbered and surrounded, Avensermoor knocked into a total ruin around them.

Admin platoon had suffered a similar fate, although in less honourable circumstances, dropping their weapons and raising their hands without a fight, much to the disgust of the tough
Soviet
engineers who swept in for the spoils of war.

Kommando Bucholz and the MG platoon of the Saskatoon’s had gone down fighting
, inflicting hard losses on the 1195th Riflemen
,
and even knocking down a few of the engineers who moved tentatively down from Avensermoor.

‘D’ Company suffered few casualties, but there was no dishonour in their surrender.
A ring of tanks and infantry formed round them
,
and artillery and mortars commenced to pound them long after day had become night.

A wounded Canadian officer was brought forward
,
and he agreed to negotiate with the ‘D’ Company survivors to save further loss of life.

Illuminated by a searchlight from the 1695th’s AA unit
,
the wounded man stumbled forward
,
clutching his white flag
,
until he reached ‘D’ Company’s positions.

As Acting Major Roberts organised the surrender of ‘D’ Company
,
Yarishlov busied himself with inspecting the enemy headquarters.

Arranging for the two dead bodies to be removed
,
he let his officers descend upon the wealth of intelligence found inside the holed tent.

As usual
,
Kriks appe
ared magically with a hot drink,
and he and his colonel watched on as the Canadian headquarters was picked clean by the locusts, sharing a particularly fine
Cuban
cigar in silence.

Everstorfermoor was
in ruins, no building untouched by the ra
vages of war. T
he
civilian
inhabitants
had departed long
before the battle
commenced, so Everstorfermoor was also silent, s
ave for the background sounds of fire consuming wood
,
and the occasional cacophony of brickwork crashing to the ground.

The Russians, conscious of the light of burning buildings
and allied air power in the night
withdrew, leaving the small village with only its garrison of dead.

Only lifeless eyes witnessed a cellar door slide cautiously
open,
and two shadowy figures move off into the night
, their curious wooden gait
s apparent in the
flickering
light of the flames
.

Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.

William Shakespeare

Both men sat drinking their tea in
smug
silence, the reports of success from the
ground war
almost
universal. Some minor irritations of stubborn defence
,
but the spearheads were on the move and driving deep into the German heartland.

Success indeed, but it was being bought at
high cost in men and materiel, something the reports from Zhukov stated openly and something
that
they patently ignored, despite the continuing number of formations
permanently
lost from the order of battle.

There were negatives
,
but neither man worried too much, such was the euphoria of the achievements to date.
The Allied air forces had gained control of the night sky and, in truth, the day was a delicate balancing act of who could get what assets where and when but
,
in the main
,
the
Soviet
air force was holding its own during daylight hours.

Again casualties were heavy, particularly on the
Shturmoviks
and light bomber regiments
,
but the Allies were suffering equally badly as the figures illustrated only too well.

Beria and Stalin did not understand that some commanders were inflating the effectiveness of their missions, claiming more kills and more ground targets destroyed than were actually hit. The airman often exaggerates
,
and Beria had built in a compensation for that
,
but casualties amongst the Allied air fleet and ground forces were nowhere near as bad as was being suggested.