by Alan David
‘What the hell is holding you up, Captain?’ Dantine demanded. ‘Don’t you know the whole Battalion is waiting for you to make contact with the enemy?’
Eckhardt explained and requested help from the reserve Company. ‘There’s no way I can extricate my platoons, sir,’ he reported crisply. ‘The farm needs a larger force than one Company to attack it. If you push in another Company I’m certain we can capture it.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Dantine rapped. ‘Keep your men engaging the enemy while I send in Third Company. Work together. But I want that farm in our hands before nightfall.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Eckhardt smiled grimly as he cut off. He knew Colonel Dantine. His superior might rant and rave when an attack was pinned down, but he knew how to wage war and would not waste time in sending help where it was necessary.
They crouched under the trees, listening to shell-fire. Large shells rumbled across the sky, passing in either direction as the artillery of both sides fought their own particular kind of war. The foliage had been stripped from most of the trees, and Eckhardt saw evidence of air attacks. He realized that he was taking a chance by staying in the wood, but they needed cover and he had to be close to his platoons. He listened to the rattle of machine-guns — the fast ripple of fire from the MG42s and the slower, more deliberate fire from the British light machine-guns. He spoke to his platoon commanders, advising them that support was coming forward and ordering them to consolidate their positions.
Reinfeld reported that the British were counter-attacking, infiltrating along the thick hedgerows, and Eckhardt checked with his reserve platoon, which was also under fire. There was no way he could get them forward to support Reinfeld.
Peering around, Eckhardt decided that all these little green fields looked alike, and he realized that it was going to be difficult terrain in which to fight. Men could get lost, or mistake one field for another. There could be no quick advance here. They would have to consolidate in each field before they pushed on to the next.
Not satisfied with his position, Eckhardt moved forward again until they came under direct fire from an enemy MG. They lay sweating as he peered around. He called for mortar support, pinpointing the machine-gun firing at them. A six-barrelled Nebelwerfer went into action, and when the series of explosions faded away the enemy machine-gun was silent. Eckhardt called his other platoon commanders, asking them if they could move, and all replied in the negative. Enemy small arms fire was heavy and accurate. They had walked into real trouble.
The reserve Company arrived, and its commander, Captain Drechsler, came forward to lie at Eckhardt’s side. They went over the situation together and agreed on a plan. The reserves moved forward to support Eckhardt’s platoons, putting down a heavy covering fire while Second Company moved in closer to the farm and its outbuildings. The volume of fire increased as battle was joined, and Eckhardt was relieved when his men began to advance again. They sneaked closer to the farm, firing rapidly, and soon all four platoons were within striking distance and attempting to storm forward.
Eckhardt lay in a hedge and watched Reinfeld and Hoess, two of his platoon commanders, attempting a frontal assault upon the ruined farm. Smoke was rising from the wreckage that had been the house and streams of machine-gun fire cut at the advancing Germans. Eckhardt saw casualties falling, but the men were advancing and that was all that counted. Dantine wanted this farm and he would get it regardless of the cost.
The attack continued, covered by the supporting fire of the reserve Company, and their combined weight told against the British. Eckhardt saw a third platoon of his Company moving in to add their weight to the attack, and grenades were hurled through the windows and gaping holes in the walls of the buildings. Minutes later there was a spate of fierce hand to hand fighting which surged back and forth until the British were killed or driven out.
As soon as the farm was in their hands Eckhardt went forward under heavy shelling to organize its defence. He brought in the four platoons and gave them positions to hold. His orders to the platoon commanders were definite. Hold at any cost. The officers acknowledged and Eckhardt reported to Dantine that the farm was in their hands.
‘Hold that position no matter what happens,’ Colonel Dantine replied. ‘I’m sending in two more Companies on your left to capture a crossroads. Once that is in our hands we shall command our Battalion area. Stay put, Eckhardt. I’ll come back to you later.’
Eckhardt went round to check his Company positions personally, and passed Fritz Leun and an ammo party struggling forward with belts of machine-gun ammunition and boxes of grenades. Leun grinned as they ducked a series of explosions, and paused to wipe sweat from his face. He looked as if the pace of the battle was too much for him, and Eckhardt studied the older man’s face critically, for Leun was pushing forty. But Leun motioned for his men to go on, and checked his machine-pistol with strong, capable hands before getting up to lead the way to one of the platoons.
‘Don’t forget to duck, Captain,’ Leun called in parting, and Eckhardt nodded gravely.
He saw a counter-attack being prepared and called for artillery support. An artillery observer should have moved up with them, but he had been killed by a shell splinter and his replacement had not yet arrived. Mortars and shells burst in the area he designated, and he used his glasses to check the result. The British were still preparing to storm the farm.
When he spotted three British sections, dressed in khaki and wearing pudding basin type steel helmets decorated with foliage and grass for camouflage, Eckhardt called to Leutnant Hoess, informing him of the enemy’s presence.
‘You’re in a perfect position to ambush them, Hoess,’ Eckhardt said urgently. ‘They haven’t spotted you. Take your time and get them properly. They’re trying to work their way around on the flank.’
He watched them, and saw the British moving cautiously in extended files along a hedge. Hoess’s platoon was strung out in sections, and they were in cover, well hidden in the hedge. When Hoess gave the order his platoon opened fire at almost point-blank range and grenades were thrown. The British were completely surprised and suffered heavy casualties, but the survivors did not run. They turned and hurled themselves into action, storming the hedge and throwing grenades in return. There could not have been more than a dozen survivors from the entire British platoon, but they got into the hedge and forced their way through to close quarters. The next instant British and Germans were grappling hand to hand, and Eckhardt watched through his glasses, ready to send in help should it be required. But the British were heavily outnumbered and beaten into the ground.
None was taken prisoner. They fought to the death among the thick hedgerow and trees, clawing and kicking, punching and bayoneting. The battle was short and fierce, and Eckhardt saw a number of German casualties stretched out despite the initial surprise they had enjoyed. The British were tough fighters, and when they set themselves to accomplish a task they usually succeeded.
A counter-attack was launched against the farm. Shells burst all around, wounding and killing some of the German defenders. Then the shelling stopped suddenly, and the next instant half a dozen fighter-bombers appeared over the area. They wheeled and dived at the wreckage that was still smoking from the last attack, firing cannon and rockets, and more smoke drifted. Eckhardt watched closely, aware that Reinfeld’s platoon was in among the ruins. They would be suffering heavy casualties. But the Germans were putting in an attack on the left and Eckhardt could hear the sounds of action coming from that direction and realized that they had to hold fast here. Then he was informed by the supporting Company that it had to withdraw, and when it moved out Eckhardt wondered what would happen next. The British were almost ‘ready to counter-attack the farm, and when they came storming in, their files and sections moving resolutely into the German defensive fire, Eckhardt realized that they were in for a real battle.
The British came in behind grenades and supporting Brenfire, and they reached the ruined buildings despite heavy and accurate sh
ooting by the SS men. Accustomed to fighting against overwhelming odds, the SS fought savagely and staunchly, but the British would not be denied. They drew within striking distance and then charged, rifles and bayonets ready. Grenades were hurled into the ruins and assault parties followed them. Smoke flew and men fell and died. For long moments Eckhardt could not see what was happening. Then the British withdrew, leaving many dead and wounded scattered around, and shells began to fall once more upon the farm.
Eckhardt got reports of casualties and shook his head. But the British had been beaten off and possibly would ‘not mount another attack for some time. It was likely that his own Company could push forward but, when he asked permission of Colonel Dantine, his superior refused.
‘I want you to consolidate that farm position, Eckhardt. We’re having trouble taking the crossroads. These British are fighting like SS men. Hold on there and anchor this front. If you lose the farm we’ll be thrown back to our start line, and that won’t go down well with the Brigadeführer. I gave him my word that we would take and hold our objectives.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Eckhardt smiled wryly as he acknowledged then turned his attention to the problems facing them. They had to hold their positions. He checked with the forward platoons and learned that they were getting their casualties back. That was a good sign. But enemy mortars and shells were bursting all around them, and the ground rocked and quaked with the explosions of larger calibre explosives.
The British concentrated their fire upon the farm and soon reduced the ruins to little more than blackened heaps of smoking rubble. Yet the SS men held on, dug in and ready to repel any counter-attack. Direct hits by some of the exploding shells blotted out a number of their shallow weapon pits, but there were always some who survived the hell to fight on when yet another counter-attack came in.
When they were not fighting hand to hand, the two armies exchanged small arms fire, fighting duels with machine-guns, throwing grenades, each trying to gain the initiative. Eckhardt lay watching his Company maintaining their defensive positions, and radioed to Dantine all information which he felt his superior should have. His platoon commanders, in their turn, kept him informed of the situation on each of their small fronts, and the long, hot hours of the June day passed as they tried ceaselessly to kill the enemy while the British maintained their murderous assaults with troops, planes and artillery.
The pale blue sky was marred with smoke, but birds were singing in the meadows amidst the crackling bullets and bursting shells. Eckhardt moved his HQ to a shell crater which was still smoking, continuing to watch points along his narrow front. The farm was firmly in their hands. The British could not retake it, although they kept trying. But the infantry were pinned down by the close country and tanks could not easily operate. Then Eckhardt heard the sound of armoured vehicles and narrowed his blue eyes as he peered out of his cover and saw three Shermans moving into view, advancing upon the wreckage of the farm like prehistoric monsters. The tanks opened fire and smoke enveloped them while their shells blasted the area, throwing some of the rubble into the air and killing a few more of Eckhardt’s men. German machine-guns rattled ceaselessly, and bullets screeched and bounced off the armoured hulls so that the Shermans were forced to shut down and use their periscopes. Eckhardt looked around for the artillery observer. A replacement must have arrived by now and he wanted some 88-fire laid on against the Shermans.
When shells began to explode around the vehicle the Shermans sought cover, scared off by the heavy, accurate shelling. The SS men in their positions lay mindless amidst the hell that kept erupting. They arose to fight only when the enemy infantry arrived to contest the ground.
But the counter-attacks grew less frequent as the long day passed, and Eckhardt knew they would be able to hold at least until dark, when he expected the British to put in a determined assault. He called Battalion HQ with the news and Dantine spoke to him.
‘I wish all my Company Commanders were as reliable as you, Eckhardt. We are having trouble holding the crossroads. The British are counter-attacking nonstop. But hold your position until you hear from me again. If we have to push in the whole Battalion then I’ll do it. We are not going to come off second best.’
Eckhardt moved around cautiously to personally check his Company. He crawled past dead Germans sprawled upon their backs, mouths agape and hands clutching, faces turned up to the sky with eyes staring sightlessly. They were still, no longer concerned with the outcome of the battle, and Eckhardt found himself wondering if they were not the fortunate ones, for their worries and responsibilities were at an end.
Sergeant-Major Leun reported to him as he crawled to the side of a heap of rubble that had been the barn. Shell craters littered the ground, some of them almost overlapping, and Eckhardt could see the helmets of some of his men showing where they crouched in cover, weapons ready should the British come again. But there was a comparative lull at the moment, apart from the muted sounds of a few machine-guns firing on another part of the fiery front.
‘We’ve sustained a lot of casualties, sir,’ Leun reported. ‘The forward platoon got it worst.’
‘Reinfeld’s?’ Eckhardt frowned because most of the older soldiers in the Company were in Reinfeld’s platoon. ‘What about Sergeant Steine and Corporal Sieber?’
Leun grinned, aware that those two in particular had been with the Division since Poland.
‘Old soldiers seem to have a way of surviving even the worst actions,’ he commented. ‘Steine is sitting in that shell-hole to your right and Sieber is on the left with his machine-gun. Do you remember that time in Poland when Sieber shot some of our own men?’
‘And I took the MG away from him,’ Eckhardt mused. ‘That was a mistake. Sieber’s the best machine-gunner in the whole Division.’
‘Let’s hope you don’t make any worse mistakes than that one,’ Leun stated. ‘I’ve got the walking wounded moving out, but the British are preparing for another attack. I’ve got the feeling that they’ll be coming as the sun goes down.’
‘That’s what I think,’ Eckhardt agreed. ‘Make sure the forward platoons have plenty of grenades, Leun.’
‘We’re attending to that now, sir.’ Leun nodded and moved on, and Eckhardt watched his sergeant-major, thinking back over the past and considering the changes that had taken place.
A bullet smacked against his steel helmet and he flattened out as if he had been killed then crawled into the safety of a crater. He removed his helmet and looked at the scar upon it where a bullet had made its deadly impact and cursed himself for a fool, daydreaming in the front line. He snapped back to full alertness and went on with his inspection, talking to the platoon commanders and the men, telling them that they had done a good job and were holding easily.
By the time he returned to his HQ it was almost dark and the men were looking forward to food and coffee. Eckhardt himself was parched, and fought down his discomfort as he studied the front and prepared for evening stand-to. He expected an attack and warned his platoon commanders to be ready. The lull seemed to grow into a definite bout of inactivity, but Eckhardt was not fooled and, as the shadows crawled along the hedgerows and indistinctness filled the hollows, the British came again, without a heralding barrage and moving very quickly.
Sieber’s machine-gun was the first weapon to start chattering, and its insistent note warned that something was afoot. Eckhardt waited, and soon the solitary machine-gun’s fire was bolstered by the hammering of supporting weapons. Then Eckhardt knew his instincts had been correct. He saw gun flashes then figures of the enemy running forward into the fire. Enemy machine-guns opened up to support their troops and a furious fight developed.
The British came in stolidly, firing and moving until they were within close combat range. Then the Germans arose from their positions and emerged with bayonets and machine-pistols. Grenades blasted and men screamed. The darkness was ripped and slashed by flaring light. Tracers curved and weaved. The British pressed home their assault with grea
t determination, and they were well supported. One full-strength Company hit Eckhardt’s depleted Company, some breaking through, and Eckhardt realized that he was in danger of being overrun. He picked up his machine-pistol and prepared to fight, for in a situation like this it was every man for himself.
Leun was with the reserves, waiting for the right moment to come in to lend their weight to the defence, and Eckhardt opened fire upon the enemy who came running forward through his first line of defence. The night was deceptive, and it was almost impossible to tell friend from foe. But there was no confusion or panic in the ranks of SS Division Vaterland. They stood their ground resolutely and fired everything they had. They battered the British into the ground, blunted the attack, then smashed it, sending streams of machine-gun fire into the enemy as they withdrew, and it was the last assault of the day. Silence returned slowly and the night settled down. Smoke drifted across the positions. Wounded cried out for water and aid. Leun went around with his ammunition party, replenishing supplies, for they expected yet another counter-attack with the coming of daylight. Dead men were removed and defences were checked. Then they settled down to wait, the short night passing quickly.
Eckhardt contacted Battalion and spoke with Colonel Dantine, who was pleased with Second Company’s showing. But the situation was still fluid and the crossroads were at present in British hands. Dantine visualized a dawn attack to grab them back, and Eckhardt settled down for a few short hours of rest, aware that on the morrow the whole horrific business would be resumed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kurt Eckhardt was not happy with the way their Panzers had been pushed into defence. The whole concept of tank warfare, from the German point of view, was attack. But until Rommel committed his reserves there would not be enough armour to hit the Allies sufficiently hard, and no one had decided that this Normandy landing was the main invasion. There were many in the higher echelons of the Wehrmacht who still believed that Normandy was a feint to draw German reserves away from the Pas de Calais. Consequently the reserves were immobilized, as much by the Allied airforce as by the German High Command, and those Panzers in the fighting were forced into a role which did not suit them.