Nemesis

by John Schettler

  The new T-34 was just beginning to arrive at designated units along the front. Most were held in reserve areas, where the remnants of the old Mech Corps had been consolidating and converting to the new structure discussed by Kirov and Berzin. Yet there were a few assigned to independent brigades, and two of them were now sitting astride the path of the German advance, the 4th and 11th. They had been cleverly hidden in and behind farm houses, large bales of hay, and harvest silos, with numerous dummy tank positions also erected to try and fool the Stuka pilots that swept down during ever major German advance. Other tanks lay concealed in the nearby woodland, and now their carefully laid ambush was sprung.

  The crack of the 76mm gun on the new Soviet tanks was sharp and harsh on the cool morning air, and the Germans, with equal cool, quickly spotted the muzzle flashes in the distance, over a full kilometer away. These were not T-60s, and formation leader Colonel Heinrich Eberbach first thought they must be well concealed KV-1 tanks, with a decent 76mm gun. His ‘Vorausabteilung’ was the advanced detachment leading the way to Mtsensk on the main road, and it consisted of 36 tanks, a pair of 88s, a small gun detachment from the artillery regiment, a platoon of motorcycle infantry and 1st company from Pioneer Battalion 79.

  The KV-1 had been encountered before, and the Germans had learned to respect it, finding it invulnerable to most every tank gun they had. Only the dread 88s could hope to knock one out at range, and in after action reports, German inspectors had found knocked out KV-1s that had sustained thirty to forty hits from lighter 37mm and 50mm guns, and still fought on before the 88s finished them off. Thankfully, these tanks were always deployed in small numbers and the Germans were not overly concerned. They were also slow and cumbersome, which made them easy to outflank. The German Panzer IIIs swept around them like jackals hunting a bison, and usually prevailed. Their superior numbers would usually decide the day.

  That day, Eberbach had a mix of both Panzer III-Js and a few Panzer IV infantry support tanks. The first crack of the guns had been reported correctly, for it was three KV-1 tanks under Sergeant Antonov that had opened the battle on the German flank, firing from the woods. A halftrack was hit and exploded, the shock of the attack riveting the German tankers as they quickly wheeled right off the road to engage. The KV-1s had always been tough when encountered, but they were too often accompanied only by lighter tanks. That was not the case this time. Lavrinenko’s platoon at the farm was near Antonov, and his four T-34s soon joined the action. Then the entire tree line opened up, as the rest of the Soviet brigade under battalion commanders Gusev and Burda began to attack.

  Chapter 29

  The Germans suddenly realized that the Airborne troops had only been deployed to hold and lure them on. Now the main threat was revealed, and they quickly lost several Panzer IIIs to drive home the lesson. Eberbach stopped before a small stone bridge, squinting through field glasses at the woods astride the road ahead. Something told him there was trouble ahead, an instinct that prickled up from time to time, and he had learned to heed its warning.

  A veteran on the First World War, he had been wounded by a French bullet that took his nose, and the surgeons had decided to fashion a new one for him made of rubber. His food never tasted the same after that, but that rubber nose still served him well in other ways. It was never cold in the wind, and at times like this, it still had the scent of battle. Yet he needed to know more.

  “What is the problem?” he asked a Sergeant.

  “The lead squadron chased some light infantry out of those woods, but they ran into a couple enemy tanks—KV-1s from the sound of the guns.”

  Eberbach looked around. “That stream will make a quick flanking maneuver more difficult. Better bring up the 88s.”

  “That had always been the German trump card against the tough Russian heavy tanks. The KV-II was even more of a behemoth, though they seldom encountered them. Eberbach had heard rumors that the British had a new tank as well, something that the 88s could not even stop, which gave him a real shudder. But thus far, no such beast had shown up in the Russian camp, and so he played out his trump, hoping to make a quick end of things here.

  The 88s came up, along with a pair of 10.5cm artillery pieces, which could also knock out the heavier Russian tanks if they got a good hit. The game was slowly escalating, up through higher caliber guns to counter ever thickening armor. Eberbach noted a small wooded ridge on his flank, as the gunners got into position and began firing at the KV-1s. The 105s disabled one heavy tank, and another was put out of action by the 88s, along with two T-60s that had come on the scene. Then the enemy suddenly sprung into action, maneuvering to attack the German guns, and, as Eberbach watched the speedy Russian tanks sprint to get into a better firing position, he knew he was not dealing with the same awkward tank divisions his men had beaten time and time again. But what were they? The swept out from another wooded area to the north, rolling swiftly and easily over the sodden ground, and they were not T-60s. Two stopped and he saw the turrets turn to engage his 88s, while the crews were struggling to turn the big guns to face this new threat. With a sinking feeling he knew these had to be the new enemy T-34s, yet they were seldom seen in such numbers, maneuvering rapidly to flank the 88s. They were Germany’s premier anti-tank weapon, yet cumbersome to move and deploy, and basically a stationary target once in action.

  Eberbach cringed when the first 88 was struck by a direct hit, the heavy gun mount literally lifted off the ground. To his great surprise, the Russians were firing from well beyond a thousand meters, and the second gun was also lost within minutes. He ran to a platoon of Mark IVs on the road leading to the bridge. “Move! Get after those damn tanks!”

  On the other side of that action, Dmitri Lavrinenko watched from his hidden position within a tall bale of hay at the edge of the farm. Samohin’s platoon maneuvered as planned, and he got those guns, but here came the German tanks.

  “Track left,” he said to his gunner. “Make your range 1.2…. Fire!” He was pleased to see a hit with the very first round, and soon after, the other three tanks in his platoon opened up

  “Left five degrees, range 1000… Fire!”

  In a matter of minutes he had scored two kills, and now he decided to move, ordering his driver to back out of their concealed position. He gave a similar order over his radio headset, grateful that his tanks finally had radios. The platoon executed a quick turn, put on speed following Dmitri’s tank, and sprinted to their next planned firing position, a low rise that covered a road.

  In this tiny little duel, a relatively small island action in the raging sea of war on every side, the Germans would make the acquaintance of Lavrinenko and his comrades in their new T-34s, and lose ten tanks in thirty minutes time. Six were completely destroyed, with four others badly damaged, but hauled off for repairs. The two 88s that had successfully engaged were also taken out, along with one of the two 105mm guns, and several half tracks and prime movers. It would cost the enemy at least 9 tanks to achieve that result, the three KV-1s, four T-60s and two of the new T-34s, but nothing like that had happened before—an enemy tank force that could not only match, but completely stop a well equipped German mechanized kampfgruppe, inflicting as much damage as it had received.

  While a sharp check, it was not really a devastating loss, and the Germans had managed to inflict equal harm on the enemy before nightfall. Yet they took a hard lesson—their foe was learning how to fight them, and now the enemy had a formidable new tank in the T-34 that made new tactics like those employed by Lavrinenko and Samohin possible. Like the KV-1, it was able to engage the Panzer IIIs at long range, and forced the German tankers to close to 500 meters to have any chance of a kill, and then only if they could somehow flank the Russian tanks. That soon proved a difficult task, for the wide tracks of the T-34 gave it excellent open field maneuverability, and good speed.

  After the action, Guderian was told the enemy had a tank that was better than anything in the entire Panzergruppe, which was humbling to realize. It
was a psychological check more than a hard physical loss, for in these altered states, it was still only August, and Guderian’s force was far more robust than it had been when this battle was fought in Fedorov’s history. The battle had one further aftershock when it was reported by Guderian to OKW. It cemented more than ever the need for rapid upgrades to the primary German armor, for now a most important decision was about to be made, one that would decide the entire future course of the war.

  Firstly, Guderian had ordered Eberbach north simply as a reconnaissance in force, and more to scout the condition of the road than anything else. Taking Mtsensk was simply an adjunct to that aim. Yet, after being stopped outside the town, Eberbach called for support from the rest of the division, and more troops were sent to settle the matter. When they got there, they found that the Russian tankers had been reinforced with the arrival of the 6th Guards Rifle Division, and a real battle was now on the menu.

  That night Eberbach consulted his map, seeing that a shallow river wended its way through the Mtsensk, meandering on east of the town for many miles. He advocated a more coordinated attack, and Division commander Langermann agreed.

  “We got a good bloody nose this morning,” he said. “What was the problem?”

  “T-34s, and a good number this time. We got six or eight, but I think they have a full battalion here. The rest were the same old fare, but they did have KV-1s as well.”

  “You lost two 88s?”

  “Those damn T-34s,” said Eberbach. “They move very quickly, and we can’t hurt them with our 50cm guns unless we get in close. But it was how they moved that startled me—very precise—a well planned ambush. Someone out there knows what he is doing.”

  “They had to have learned something by now,” said Langermann. “Very well, tomorrow we bring up the Panzergrenadiers.”

  The following morning KG Seiden came up with two battalions of 12th Panzergrenadier Regiment. They quickly joined Eberbach for a second attack up the main road, and were successful in pushing through Voin, Gorolevo and the small hamlet of Svboda. The enemy para units were falling back towards hill 879 west of Mtsensk, stopping in orchards to deploy briefly, then retreating again in a well coordinated withdrawal. Eberbach was on that side of the action, with a company of engineers and the 4th Motorcycle Battalion. But his tanks had pushed on up the road to Mtsensk, and soon were in another sharp duel with the 4th and 11th Tank Brigades as they entered the town.

  Katukov had fallen back there to regroup that night, summoning Bonder’s 11th Tank Brigade, which was in local reserve at the northern fringe of the town. Now in the closer quarters urban engagement, things were a little different. Eberbach’s Panzer IIIs proved more maneuverable, and the shorter range duels had evened the odds. The Germans were able to maneuver through the narrow streets and get good positions for side shots on the Russian tanks, most of which were still the familiar T-60s in Bonder’s group.

  In the meantime, KG Dorn had come up last, with two more battalions from the 33rd Panzergrenadier Regiment. These were quickly sent east in an attempt to envelop the town, but they soon ran into the 10th Para Brigade dug in on the northern side of the river. In little time, the entire division was engaged, with Eberbach slowly fighting his way into the town.

  Katukov’s 4th Tank Brigade losses were not that severe, with 5 T-34, a KV-1 and three T-60s destroyed. But his supplies were dwindling, and that night Eberbach mounted a daring raid on the depots for Bondar’s 11th Brigade, destroying much needed ammunition in a brief, midnight sortie that the Russians never saw coming. With the 5th Guards now taking over the defense of the town, Katukov took his brigade up the road to Tula to regroup at Chern. It was a prescient move, for the following morning Guderian’s 3rd Panzer Division began arriving from Orel.

  Seeing that the fighting ahead would completely block movement on the main road that day. KG Wellmann of the 3rd Panzer moved north instead, until they found a serviceable bridge near hill 670, at a small hamlet called Tarkunovka. There they crossed to scout out the possibility of sweeping the entire division up around the battle at Mtsensk, intending to envelop it from the north and rejoin the main road to Tula at the same time. The movement would take them well beyond the action, and the place Wellmann was fingering on his map was called Chern.

  *

  The fighting continued for a third day at Mtsensk, as the Germans were forced to clear the town block by block, and with heavy casualties. I/35th Panzer battalion in Eberbach’s group had suffered the most. It had started the three day battle with 46 medium tanks, which included a company of 10 PzKfw-IVDs that had joined his KG. By the end of the third day it had only 19 of 36 Panzer IIIs, and 7 of 10 IV-Ds remaining—over 40% casualties in the vital medium tank category. Only three light tanks were lost, but the total tank loss in the battalion 20, a cold number to report when Eberbach met with Guderian.

  “What about II Battalion,” asked Guderian, obviously concerned.

  “They weren’t involved in the street fighting tonight, and so losses there were relatively light—only five tanks, but four of them Panzer IIIs. The enemy armor is withdrawing, and I think we gave as good as we got, but this was a hard fight.”

  “And at the end of a very long road,” said Guderian. He could see the fatigue in Eberbach now, the lines on his face, soiled uniform and crumpled hat all adding to the impression of a man who had been simply worn down. And for the first time, Guderian thought he saw the glimmer of fear in the other man’s eyes. That would be the real enemy, he knew—fear. Up until now his tankers had reigned supreme, but now they had finally met their nemesis, and then some.

  Eberbach continued. “KG Seiden was in the town, and is now very low on supply. KG Dorn had a better time of it on the right. They pushed over the river and are poised to take this high ground in the morning, It overlooks the road north of the town, and I think the Russians know we have them now. Yet this was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance!”

  “3rd Panzer is coming up from Orel,” said Guderian, hoping to put some spirit back into Eberbach, but he could see the man would do better with some good food and rest. “Don’t push things in the morning. Let’s see how stubborn they want to be when they see 3rd Panzer on their right flank. Then I think they will give us this place.”

  “Yes? Well it would be nice if OKW gave us some new tanks. If it goes like this every time we run into those T-34s…”

  “I will plead your case soon enough,” said Guderian. “Halder wants to see me at OKW and I leave tonight. 3rd Panzer will move in front now. Rest your boys and see if you can get any of those lost tanks running again. There’s been a lot of talk about new tanks for us soon, though I haven’t seen even one. We shall see if Halder knows anything.”

  Eberbach would eventually get six of those 20 disabled tanks running again, but his regiment had suffered a hard blow. He did not know it yet, but the action he had led was the opening round of what would soon transform into the last big push by the German Army to try and win the war in 1941—Operation Typhoon.

  *

  On the morning of the fourth day, it was out of the frying pan and into the fire to Katukov’s intrepid tankers. They had spent the short night in Chern, repairing tank treads and other light damage, scrounging for fuel and ammunition, and taking stock of what was left of the mobile force. Dmitri Lavrinenko had started on his astonishing run of tank kills, getting six of those twenty German panzers, and his comrade Konstantin Samohin had five kills.

  Lavrinenko was standing beside his T-34, looking like Napoleon in his long grey trench coat, hat and earmuffs askew, and one hand tucked inside the flap of his coat to keep it warm in the chilly dawn.

  “A good fight for a change,” he said.

  “Yet here we are,” said Samohin, “still heading north, and they’ll take Mtsensk this morning. Bondar’s group got the worst of it.”

  “Raftopoullo came in with his second battalion this morning. Chemelki didn’t make it with the first…”

  “They fought
well, but they’re still clattering around in those old BT-7s.” said Lavrinenko. “This one here,” he thumbed his T-34, “this is the way to build a good tank. Did you see those Panzers go up? One damn shot was all it took! Give us enough of these, and we’ll win this war, and I’ll get a hundred enemy tanks to prove it.”

  “I’ll get a hundred too,” said Samohin. “Let us see who gets there first.”

  They would each get their chance again that day, as Katukov had been ordered to hold Chern to try and delay any further enemy advance on Tula until the defense could be organized there. Too slow to foot it the 20 kilometers north on the main road, the 6th Guards Division, and what was left of the two para brigades, withdrew east of Mtsensk toward higher ground near Hill 873 and the village of Bobriki. They had learned a new Soviet Rifle Corps of three new divisions had arrived to the south of that position, facing the German 267th Infantry was positioned to screen the road back to Orel.

  The “incident” at Mtsensk would soon take on far more gravity than it seemed. The movement of 3rd Panzer Division around the town had started a flow of men and machines north on the road to Tula, and so the supply columns would have to follow, and as it so often happened in war, one thing would lead to another. The brief battle took on a certain momentum in Guderian’s mind as well as he thought about the road ahead, for that was obviously where those enemy units had come from—Tula, an important enemy arms manufacturing center. Soon this action would figure prominently in the discussion being held at OKW, and Guderian would take key thoughts to that meeting when he hastened south in a plane to attend.

  The first was that the enemy tanks were now better than anything he had, and they were learning how to use them. The second was that Tula should be taken, and quickly, before the already deteriorating weather conditions made the roads impassable.