Breakthrough (The Red Gambit Series) (38 page)

Deniken grinned from ear to ear.

“None worth speaking of
,
Comrade
Polkovnik
!”

Regaining his composure, Yarishlov struck back.

“That I can believe,
Comrade May
or.
I was safer at
Kursk
!”

Fig #
39
- Veersebruck - Key positions.

A-
   
BA64 briefing point.

B-
    
6-pdr anti-tank gun.

C-
    
Three tank reserve. Initial position.

D-
    
Single
Sherman
for road bridge defence.

E-
    
Revel’s
Sherman
. Initial position.

F-
    
Revel’s
Sherman
. Final position.

G-
    
Three tank reserve. Deployment.

H-
    
Road bridge defence tank destroyed in this position.

I-
     
Camouflaged first aid post.

Grabin greeted the arrivals, unsure what was giving the two senior officers their lively, almost excited air, and conducted them to a simple wooden structure that provided some shelter from the rain. Here he made his report before Yarishlov moved on to check out his two tanks.

Deniken and he had already agreed that the armour would remain with Grabin’s unit until the 2nd Guards moved off again.

Returning to the jeep, the rain suddenly intensified to a previously unseen level and Yarishov ran quickly to a tree, under whose spreading branches he sought cover.

A previous tenant had installed a small waterproof sheet in the low lying branches, and its protection was welcome.

Sufficiently sheltered
,
he took the option of a quiet cigarette by himself. He inspected the knocked out
Sherman
tank
from
the relatively close
distance
, promising
to have
a
better
look once the rain had abated.

Leaning up against the main trunk and using a secondary
growth
to support his back
,
he relaxed
.
D
rawing the rich smoke into h
is lungs, he
silently reflected
on the past hour,
past day, past week, past...

He fell asleep.

Revel was in his mother’
s
close
embrace, but all was not well.
Hugg
ing
him
tightly to her body
,
she was scram
bling through a
sodden
rabbit warren, ever decreasing in
diameter
, jamming her son
’
s body between her and the wall of the burrow.

The water ran in strong streams, washing up over his face, causing him to cough, as it prevented him from breathing, or shouting, or crying.

His mother gripped him more tightly, battling further into the warren, ignoring its decreasing dimensions, plunging on to the safety it offered her and her son.

She pushed on, seemingly unaware that she was pressing the breath from her son’s body.

The
glistening brown
walls of the warren seemed to press in
of their own accord
,
further
restricting Revel’s capacity to draw breath.

‘Maman! Maman! Je ne peux pas respire
,
Maman!’

He woke up.

Yarishlov became aware of a
high-pitched scream
;
a
strangely strangled
and watery
scream.

Without a doubt, it was t
he scream of someone experiencing the
extremes of
terror.

He was immediately wide-eyed and grabbing at his pistol holster.

The rain was still falling heavily but
seemed
to
be striking
the soil
softly; either that or the sounds of panic took precedence in his mind. He dropped to one knee and surveyed the scene around him.

Nothing.

‘Check again
,
you fool
’
.

He looked around
once more
, trying hard to locate the source or even direction of the strangled screaming.

‘The tank?’

Standing
,
he
swiftly
checked that the sounds of running feet behind him were friendly
,
before taking off towards the tank, confirming with every step he took that the source was indeed the enemy tank.

Revel and Blanc had taken refuge underneath the wreck and both
, totally exhausted,
had fallen asleep, not knowing that their failure to stay awake
would
condemn both
of them
to a horrible death.

The rain
had
turned the ground into a quagmire, on top of which sat over
thirty
tons of metal
,
gently and inexorably sinking.

Revel had awoken as the floor of the
Sherman
pressed him gently into the muddy ground
, enough to wake him,
and
enough to hold him in place as the tank dropped lower still.

In full and horrified u
nderstanding
of
what was happening
,
Yarishlov
shouted for help as he
ripped the
spade
off the
Sherman
’s hull
, immediately starting
to dig at the front of the vehicle.

As other
Soviet
troopers started to arrive
,
they
too
dug
,
with helmets and hands, entrenching tools and rifle butts
,
reinforcing the effort at the
front and
starting another dig at the
back.

Deniken sent a young runner away to bring back more men and tools
,
and then plunged back again to his frantic digging.

“Can you drag the bastard
off
,
Yarishlov
?”

The efforts of digging started to tell, each phrase punctuated by a deep breath and another use of the spade.

“Not a hope
,
Deniken.
No time, ground’s got n
o fucking grip, fucking useless. H
e has to come out now.”

“The jeep? Drag the poor
man
out?”

“Give it a try, but we have no time.”

The infantry officer looked up and found Kriks, who nodded and ran like the wind.

Blanc was
slipping into
unconscious
ness
, the side of the tank under which he lay having dropped lower than Revel’s.
His terrified whimpering ceased and t
he gunner drowned
silently
as his head was pushed face first into a puddle of muddy water.

Revel’s panic grew as his inability to take a
proper meaningful
breath increased, the flat bottom plate of the American-made tank pressing him tightly to the ground, restricting all but the tiniest movement.

The
increased
sounds of rescue reached him
,
and he tried harder to scream his presence,
now unable
to muster anything but
a
breathless squeal.

Deniken and Yarishlov worked side by side, desperately trying to manufacture a small trench into which they could try and drag the unfortunate man, or to at least move earth from under him and buy more time.

A hand suddenly appeared,
moving
as frantically as the restriction allowed, seemingly detached from any body. A second hand
emerged and
waved, both now scrabbling at the mud and water.

The two officers exchanged looks and nodded swift agreement.

Deniken leant in and t
ook hold of the man’s left hand;
Yarishlov took the right.

Both men took a firm grip and pulled
, the disembodied hands pulling against them to double the effort.

One of Deniken’s guardsmen dived in between th
em to continue the digging work, others took hold of their officers and pulled.

Again and again
,
they exerted their collective str
ength,
and were rewarded with a gain of no more than
two
inches.

Both Yarishov and Deniken ignored the pains inflicted by their own men.

The jeep backed up to the wrecked tank, and men started to attach lines, preparing an effort to drag the man clear using the power of the little 4x4.

Kriks slid into the hollow
,
holding
the ends of two lines, waiting for the word from behind him. He ordered the spare men out, leaving just the four
of them
to battle for the life of the unknown enemy soldier.

His lines would remain unused, as the battle was already lost.

It was hopeless
,
but neither
officer
conceded or halted their effort until the hands they held grew soft.

Feeling a gentle squeeze
,
Yarishlov replied in kind, providing a presence to the unknown man dying a horrible death a few unconquerable feet from where he lay.

Deniken shared the last moment’s too
, the man acknowledging his grip with his own until he died, suffocated and crushed under his own tank.

Both officers were reluctant to release their
hold
, even when all work ceased and the
other
would-be rescuers stood back.

Yarishlov and Deniken
sought e
ye-contact
,
and
the t
wo exchanged unspoken words. W
ith a mutual nod
,
t
hey released the lifeless hands,
slid
ing
backwards out of the digging area.

Deniken knelt down and picked up his SVT, slinging it over his shoulder
,
before accepting one of the numerous cigarettes being held out to him by his respectful soldiers.

A number of canteens were passing round the muddy group, none of them containing thirst-quenching water.

Yarishlov took a full swig of brandy and spoke
quietly, loud enough for all to hear, but soft enough to carry his soldierly
feelings
and his humanity
.

“Well done
,
Comrades. No way for a soldier to die but we, his enemies, tried
to save him
. I’m proud of you all.”

A few words of thanks fell almost unheard as the group broke up and returned to their business.