by Alan David
Eckhardt’s Battalion was in the thick of the fighting, holding their positions to the last man. Even the wounded refused to surrender when surrounded and continued to fight until death overtook them. The Canadians struggled to keep advancing, but American bombers erroneously dropped their loads on the densely packed Allied columns, creating terrible confusion. The Germans were fully alerted and ready for the attacks that kept pouring in. They broke up all assaults, hammering away at the Allied armour, and after forty-eight hours the rolling wheat-fields of the Caen-Falaise plain were dotted with the smouldering hulks of one hundred and fifty Allied tanks.
In the endless days of fighting Eckhardt saw his Company strength dwindling, but they were holding the attacks. The Battalion was holding its line as ordered, and enemy attacks broke under their concerted fire. It was usual for the SS to hold the line where the fighting was heaviest or to spearhead new and desperate attacks. All SS officers knew that the Army High Command made the SS bear a heavier burden of the fighting so as to wipe them out as rivals to the army’s monopoly of military power, and thus it was SS Division Vaterland which was thrust into the vanguard of von Kluge’s counter-attack, ordered by the Führer, towards Avranches, at the base of the Cotentin Peninsula. It was intended to sever the narrow corridor through which Patton’s forces were pouring out of Normandy to the south and the west.
But the counter-attack was abortive. It made little headway and soon foundered against ceaseless air attacks. After two days the Americans mastered the counter-attack and began to push the Germans back. Meanwhile General Patton surged on unchecked, his swift advance creating the Falaise Pocket, and von Kluge advised the Führer that the only hope of saving the German armies in Normandy was to retreat across the Seine. Von Kluge was sacked, but the Wehrmacht was already pulling out.
Eckhardt, looking at his maps, noted what the Allied Commanders saw; that there was a risk of encirclement to the Germans from the north and south. The Canadians were attacking Falaise from the north, and the Americans could wheel and drive north towards the towns of Flers and Argentan. He pointed out the tactic to Colonel Dantine at a Batallion Orders Group, and Dantine tightened his lips as he studied the maps.
‘I have had reports that the American t 5th Corps is turning north from Le Mans. A serious threat is developing to our deep southern flank. If we are not careful we shall be encircled west of Falaise and Argentan. The situation has been noted, Captain, but I commend your alertness. No doubt our superiors are dealing with the matter. Now I suggest we pay attention to our own front and do what we can to prevent the Allies closing in here.’
Eckhardt firmed his lips as he nodded. His men were exhausted, and he knew they could not hold much longer. They had been asked too much already, but they would fight to the death.
‘The Fifth Panzer Army is holding the Canadians north of Falaise,’ Dantine continued, glancing at his reports, ‘and Panzer Group Eberbach is facing the Americans in the south at Argentan. They will hold. I have no doubt of that. But our supply route is constricted and the situation is grave. However we shall perform our duties as usual so let us get down to details. These are the orders for tomorrow.’
Eckhardt made some rapid notes on his pad, his eyes blinking tiredly as his brain tried to accept what Dantine was saying and convert it into writing. His hands were dirty, covered with mud, and his once immaculate uniform was covered with stains. There was a faint stubble on his chin and cheeks, and sweat was beading his forehead. The orders were to contain the enemy, but they had been trying to do that for weeks now, without rest, and the forces deployed against them grew daily stronger with each attack. It was obvious that they had to withdraw eastward, cross the Seine and make a new stand; tactics they had employed in Italy. But the Führer was talking about counter-attacks, of thrusting deep within enemy-held territory and hammering the rear areas.
When Dantine dismissed them Eckhardt went back to his Company, which was positioned in the tree-line of a wood facing the Canadians. Falaise was to the south, and still the Canadians struggled to break through the steel defences of the Germans in order to reach Falaise and close the door on the only supply route left open. The night was not completely dark for gun flashes split the shadows. Shells were screaming into the area from all directions, and overhead heavy bombers unloaded their deadly cargoes upon the devastated land. The earth tremored violently. Smoke and dust flew. Flames speared upwards from anything that would burn.
In his command post, Eckhardt studied the map. He knew they had to withdraw beyond the jaws of the Allied trap that were slowly being closed around all the German forces in Normandy. The countryside was a mass of racks with thick plantations, admirable for defence. There were hills with very steep sides, and the enemy would not be able to force his way through easily. But the overwhelming odds were against the Germans, and always there was the enemy air force. The skies were alive with fighters, fighter-bombers and medium bombers, and all day long bombs were spilling upon the slowly shrinking bag into which the Germans were forced. Eckhardt sighed heavily and shook his head. He had been wondering for some time when the end would come. Now it seemed to be staring him in the face.
A sudden outburst of heavy firing attracted his attention, and within a few moments the radio operator was reporting that Leutnant Reinfeld’s platoon was closely engaged by enemy patrols, who were coming forward in strength. Eckhardt soon discovered that the other platoons were also coming under attack and assumed that another’ assault was being mounted. The Canadians were determined to maintain movement on this front. He contacted Battalion HQ and reported to the Colonel, then checked his machine-pistol and went out into the flame-riven night.
Sergeant-Major Leun appeared at his elbow. Leun always seemed to be on hand after dark, and Eckhardt wondered if the man purposely positioned himself outside the command post. A heavy bundle of grenades hung from Leun’s belt.
‘I’ll go with you, sir,’ Leun said as Eckhardt moved forward to where the action was taking place. They got down and crawled into the forward trenches to find the Canadians pressing hard, and both joined in the shooting. An attack was beaten off, and Eckhardt moved to Reinfeld’s command post. The Leutnant shook his head, his face a shapeless grey mass in the uncertain night.
‘I don’t know how much longer we can hold them, sir,’ he said harshly as Eckhardt asked him for a report. ‘Our casualties are now running at seventy per cent. Two more attacks like this last one and we’ll be finished.’
‘The men will remain at their posts and fight to the last round,’ Eckhardt said.
‘We know the order, sir!’ Reinfeld spoke as if he resented Eckhardt’s repetition of the general order. ‘No one will give ground. But we can’t hold much longer. They’ll overrun us before morning.’
‘We may be moving out,’ Eckhardt said. ‘So hold until dawn at least. The Colonel told the Company Commanders that SS Division Vaterland is needed elsewhere. We are the only men the Führer can trust these days. So pass the word around to the men. Hold the enemy until daybreak and then we’ll see what happens.’
‘I think we’ve left it too late, sir.’ Reinfeld spoke quietly. He was not the type to panic. He had joined the Company before Stalingrad, and had taken part in the fearful fighting there before they managed to slip out of the encirclement. He was the kind of man Eckhardt wanted at his side in a tight spot.
‘It looks bad,’ Eckhardt agreed. ‘But we have been in worse situations than this, Reinfeld, and no doubt there will be others just like it in future. I know the men have been getting more than their share of the fighting lately, but at least we have sufficient ammunition and food. It’s not like it was in Russia. We were fortunate not to have gone back there.’
They ducked as the area was saturated with mortar-fire, and bombs exploded stunningly all around. Flashes split the darkness and fragments of hot metal slashed faces, broke limbs, crushed chests and ripped open bellies. Men could be heard crying in agony, but no one moved out of cover to go
to their aid. Each man crouched in his position and waited stolidly for daylight, and each expected the dawn to be the last any of them would ever see.
The night passed, and as the men stood to at dawn Eckhardt went back to his HQ. His call to Battalion HQ was anxious. He fully expected to be told that they were finally and irrevocably encircled. He experienced the grim sensations that had gripped him during Stalingrad after the Russians had mounted their massive counter-attack, but now he was older and more experienced and had long since committed his life to the gods of war.
Colonel Dantine passed on the news that the line would hold, that they must die in their trenches before yielding an inch of ground. Eckhardt acknowledged, and, when he turned to Leun to check that the forward trenches had sufficient ammunition to last through the day, he told himself that at last he knew where he was going to die. For five years he had wondered where and when it would happen to him as it had struck at millions of others. Now he knew. He had only a few hours at most. The Canadians would surely roll up this front today and push on to Falaise, finally closing the gap.
Daylight brought an increase in the action. Enemy armour could be heard moving forward, but most of the German anti-tank guns had been pulled out during the night, Eckhardt discovered with growing fatalism. Canadian infantry were crouching in their cover awaiting the arrival of their tanks, and Eckhardt checked that his anti-tank men, armed with hollow charges and other close range anti-tank weapons, were ready to do their duty. Sergeant-Major Leun had armed himself with a Panzerfaust and moved out to a crater some yards in front of the German line. Other squads were in similar positions, and the rest of the SS platoons covered them. Sergeant Steine lay in a trench with a supply of grenades and his machine-pistol ready while Corporal Sieber was just to the right, in command of his MG42.
Eckhardt called up the other platoons, checking that they were ready for the tank attack. Each anti-tank group which had been formed had three Panzerfausts — heavy, cumbersome weapons which required almost suicidal resolve to operate. Then enemy artillery opened fire, drenching the German forward positions, covering them with smoke and dust as hot death sliced through the air. Eckhardt checked his machine-pistol and waited indomitably for the end. He knew that all the Canadian attacks could not be held, and when the breakthrough came the SS would fight to the death. When the Allied steamroller moved on there would be only dead men manning these positions.
Enemy tanks appeared, moving slowly up the slope before the German defences. The anti-tank groups crouched and readied themselves. They were beyond fear. Death had been a constant companion for weeks, and now they were staring it in the face, eyeball to eyeball, and did not flinch.
Eckhardt watched the Shermans drawing closer. The armoured vehicles were firing their machine-guns and using high explosive. Their shells were extremely accurate, and Eckhardt could see his positions being shot to pieces. But the Canadian tanks were drawing into range, and ten of them were in the van, brazenly firing and rattling forward. It would be a one-sided battle of humans with explosive charges or rocket launchers, whose only defence was mobility, against a heavily armoured and strongly armed enemy.
The first Panzerfaust fired and the nearest enemy tank swung on its tracks, halted and began to burn. The German projectile had torn into its vitals and fire consumed the vehicle so quickly that none of its crew had time to escape. It was a signal for the general melee to erupt, and the anti-tank crews went into action. As soon as the enemy armour drew within range the Panzerfausts exploded, hurling their terrible charges at the steel monsters. Tanks began to disintegrate and burn, and the Canadian infantry, getting up to follow in the cover of their armoured support, were caught in the open by Eckhardt’s platoons and mown down by heavy, accurate small arms fire.
The battle intensified, but the enemy tanks were held by the suicidal anti-tank crews. Eckhardt counted ten Shermans burning in front of their positions, and for the moment the Canadians had had enough. They called off their efforts to advance and got down in cover while their artillery and air force took over and tried to pound the defences into dust and. rubble. The SS went into cover and lay beneath the hell, waiting for it to finish.
Mortar bombs crashed down, and Eckhardt, contacting Battalion HQ, learned that they were still holding grimly despite all efforts to dislodge them. But Dantine warned that the Allies were making advances on other sectors, and their position was fast becoming untenable.
Another attack moved against them and they arose once more to do battle. Their stocks of ammunition were beginning to fail, and Eckhardt knew that if they were going to move out then the order would have to come soon. He reported to Dantine and received an order to remain in position. The battle continued with the defenders growing less and less in number as the shelling and mortaring had its deadly effect.
Leun came back from his anti-tank position. He was out of ammunition. He barely looked at Eckhardt as he grabbed up more and sneaked forward again, and Eckhardt frowned as he watched the sergeant-major, somehow not hit in the maelstrom that broiled around him. When the enemy tanks came forward again the Panzerfausts made short work of them, although Eckhardt, watching his positions carefully, noted that more of his groups were knocked out.
They had all been well trained in the art of anti-tank fighting. Training schools put great emphasis upon the subject and all recruits were given intensive instruction in its art. They were taught in the first instance to overcome any inherent feelings of inferiority when faced with enemy armour, and none of the men out in front waiting for the Canadian tanks were panic-stricken by the sight of them. They waited stolidly with their Panzerfausts, and Eckhardt could see the three-foot flames ejected with each shot stabbing out regularly. The enemy tanks were paying a high price, and soon the front was littered with their flaming wrecks.
But the intensity of the attacks brought fluidity to the front. The line did not crumble altogether, but sectors yielded and the area as a whole was shrinking continually. Enemy artillery was able to fire into the pocket from north, south and west, and the Allied air force was out in large numbers, making the area a killing ground. German units were being pulled out behind a line west of the Argentan-Falaise road, but rearguards fought dourly, reluctant to give up one inch of ground. Many had to be killed before any Allied advances could be made, and on Vaterland’s front the Canadians found themselves splitting upon an obdurate rock.
Smoke obscured everything. The sky was black with it and the sun was blotted out. Behind Eckhardt’s position he could see troops pulling out, and a call to Battalion HQ informed him that it was not a retreat but an orderly withdrawal. But the horse-drawn artillery and supply transport were hard hit by fighter-bombers and soon the road became impassable.
Corpses were stretched out in their motionless attitudes of death and hordes of flies swarmed around them. The fighting raged on. The Canadians mounted yet another offensive which was preceded by a massive bomber attack. But the bombers killed and wounded more than four hundred of their own troops and the Canadian assault ran into all kinds of trouble. When they reached the main German defences the attack petered out. The 12th SS Panzer Division fought to the death; the last sixty of them holding out for three days in Falaise, and when they gave in only four wounded prisoners were taken.
Eckhardt learned of the sacrifice of their fellow SS and knew the end was drawing near. On their particular front they continued to blunt all attacks put in against them, but reports from Battalion H Q suggested that the German pocket was slowly but surely being squeezed out of existence.
The four platoons of Second Company were decimated by the non-stop fighting, and Eckhardt reformed them into two platoons, which almost brought them up to strength. But they were expected to hold ground normally allotted to four platoons, and were stretched thinly upon the ground. Nevertheless they continued to hold the Canadians, and as each new day dawned Eckhardt fancied it would be their last. He had long since ceased to wonder how his men managed to withstand the
eternal pressures and hell of battle. Their loyalty was unswerving, their devotion to duty wholehearted. But they were only flesh and blood and there was a limit to what they could achieve.
Air attacks increased as the Pocket became more constricted and the number of roads available to the Germans reduced. The fighter-bombers ranged widely, diving repeatedly to attack. The howl of their powerful engines, the rapid hammering of their weapons and the crump of bombs and rockets were interminable. Some swooped as low as fifty feet to identify their targets before attacking, and Eckhardt, on his ridge, saw Spitfires arriving over an area where rocket-firing Typhoons were already at work. He saw some signs of panic among the withdrawing troops. There was an uninterrupted flow of traffic, an endless column consisting of tanks, guns, various kinds of motor transport and horse-drawn vehicles. All were loaded to breaking point with men and material. But they made little progress, travelling slowly, and enemy aircraft dived in for the kill.
One of their favourite tactics against long streams of enemy vehicles was to seal off the front and rear of the column by accurately dropping a few bombs, a technique which imprisoned the desperate Germans on a narrow stretch of dusty lane. The vehicles were sometimes four abreast, and the narrow thoroughfares could not cope. Jammed together, they were sitting targets for the prowling aircraft, and rocket and cannon attacks resulted in extensive damage. Carnage was wrought at ground level, and any armoured cars and tanks which tried to burst out of the trap and cross the open fields were pursued and accorded the same lethal treatment. All the narrow lanes that criss-crossed the area became blocked with burned-out vehicles and the motionless dead.