by Griff Hosker
“Good, Sergeant. Get back there. I am expecting an attack on all fronts at dusk. They will try to break through. If you get the chance then booby trap no-man’s land. We can’t do it here but if there are nor Germans there yet then you should be able to give yourselves early warning.”
“Right sir. The sling!”
“It is fine, Sergeant. Stop fussing!”
Hugo sat next to me with his back to the timber wall of our defences. “Sorry sir. You are right. The men are running out of ammunition and it is my fault.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Listen, they will come at dusk. Our problem will be that they will be hard to see and we have neither Very Lights nor flares. It will be close in fighting. You and I will have to be on hand. We have pistols and they are perfect for close in work. You look after the western section and I will look after the east.”
“Right sir.”
“After dark and after they have attacked, Gordy and I will slip out and have a look see.”
“But your arm….”
“I have my pistol and I am right handed.”
“Right sir. Good luck!”
“And to you, Hugo. Remember, no matter how black it looks do not give in. These are good lads. They might be rusty but they are made of the right stuff. We owe it to them to lead them.”
He nodded. I headed back to the right hand side of the machine gun. I put my head inside, “They will come after dusk. Keep your bayonets handy.”
“Cold steel sir?”
“It will be close work and that means your machine gun will be useless. Don’t worry, I will be close by. If you need me give me a shout,. They know where we are.”
Over the next few hours the Germans kept probing. Three more of our defenders were wounded. I had them taken back to Buckingham Palace where we had based our medic. We had no idea how many men we were facing or how many casualties we were causing. At least we were not using as much ammunition as we had been. It was towards dusk that the bad news came. A runner came from Sergeant Barker, “Sir, Sergeant Barker is at Alnwick Castle, he says that he can hear armour heading up the road!”
“He has all the anti-tank weapons. Tell him to pull the defenders from the south of the hamlet.”
“Yes sir!”
I stood and shouted, “Jerry is attacking from the west. We have to hold here. No matter what they throw at us, we hang on!” There was silence. “I can’t hear you. Am I here on my own?”
Then there was a roar, “No Sir!”
“That’s better! Buddy up with a mate and keep a close watch. The only ones in front of you are Germans. They are the enemy! Kill them before they kill you!”
It was not Henry V’s speech from Agincourt but it would have to do. There was an ominous silence from the German positions and that allowed us to hear the rumble of armour. It sounded like a lone tank. Then the small arms fire began. I heard the sound of German machine pistols and then the sound of .303 rounds. Thompsons fired; that would be the Americans and Gordy using the last of his precious bullets. Grenades exploded. I heard our two mortars as they lobbed shells at the Germans. I put Gordy and Sergeant Armstrong from my mind.
I levelled the Mauser. I had little ammunition left for the MP 34. I had my last grenades ready. My Luger and Colt were loaded. My Luger was in my right hand holster and my Colt in the one on my left hand. My left arm ached but it would not stop me using my hand to support the Mauser. I peered through the sights. Magnified, I saw the Germans as they began to creep forward.
“Here they come!”
I sighted on the nearest German. He was a hundred yards away. His head filled the sight. I fired and loaded another bullet. The German’s head exploded as the bullet entered his face. I moved right and fired at the next man. I was aware that, thanks to the telescopic sight, I was the only one who could see the enemy. Each time I fired I moved either to the left or the right to put them off. I moved down the line shooting as many as I could. Some I only wounded but, as they drew closer, then every bullet hit. They began to fire and my men fired at their muzzle flash. Bullets zipped over my head. There were just fifty yards away when my men saw them and they opened fired. It was too late for, by then, they were firing at my men from close range and these were good soldiers. They did not waste a bullet. The Engineer next to me pitched backwards with a bullet in the chest. The machine gun cut them down but we had only the one.
I reloaded my magazine. In the time it took for me to reload the Germans were less than forty yards away. I fired four quick shots and then dropped the rifle. I took my first grenade and hurled it. I used a German one and when I threw it I used the detonator cord to throw it. I gained both height and distance.
“Grenade!”
The shrapnel ripped through the air. As I looked up and readied a second grenade, an M2, I saw Germans falling. I hurled the second grenade. I just managed to bury my face in the snow before pieces of metal flew over my head. I rose and fired the last round from the Mauser at a German Panzer Grenadier who was preparing to spray his MP 35 at us. He fell clutching his shoulder.
Behind me I heard the crack of a 75 mm gun. The German tank was still firing. There were cries and shouts. Grenades exploded and machine guns duelled. I could do nothing. We were in desperate straits. The machine gun to my left had stopped firing. There were the sounds of guns and grenades to my left and right. This was their final assault. The Mauser clicked on empty and I drew the Luger. I peered over the tip of the piece of timber and aimed at the white clad German figures who were racing towards us. The Germans must have been desperate for food. They ran at our lines, seemingly oblivious to the bullets flying in their direction. I was proud of Hugo’s rag tag army. They stood their ground and did not fall back. They fought for our tiny piece of England.
My gun clicked empty as the German Panzer Grenadier stood over me and pointed his MP 35 at me. He also clicked empty and threw the gun at my head. I used the Luger to deflect it as he drew his knife and leapt at me. He was a big man. He had not shaved for some days and he stank. I am amazed that I registered those facts. I punched my Luger at his face and he slashed at the gun with his dagger. The gun flew from my hand as his blade ripped against my fingers. I grabbed his wrist with my right hand. I was not certain if my left arm would stand up to the rigours of hand to hand combat. The German put his left hand on top of his right. He grinned, evilly, as he pushed down. I forced my left hand down. Even as he tried to force his razor sharp dagger against my throat I was trying to undo the flap on the holster of my Colt.
He hissed, “You are a Commando and you shall die. My Fuhrer will give me an Iron Cross when I take your head back to him.”
All around me was the sound of men fighting and men dying. All of us were in a personal battle for survival. This was not war. This was a primeval fight for those most basic of necessities, food and shelter. I undid the flap of the holster and reached my hand in to grab the pistol grip. The pressure on my right hand was growing as he added his weight to his two hands. The edge of the blade was a hand span from my throat and the weight of his body was forcing it towards my throat. I clicked off the safety on the Colt and pushed down on the grip to take the barrel away from me. I felt the edge of the blade touch my throat and I pulled the trigger. I was not certain if I would shoot myself or the German. His body lifted as the bullet drove into his groin. His grip relaxed and I turned the pistol up and fired a second time. His body was thrown from me. I held my gun out and looked for more enemies. There were none. As I came to my knees there was an eerie silence in front of me. The firing was all coming from the crossroads. Here, on the northern corner of our outpost there was silence. As I listened I heard the groans and moans of the dead, dying and the wounded.
I holstered my Colt and put another magazine into my Mauser. I half rose and peered into the dark. The snow had stopped and I could see no Germans. Certainly there were none left alive. I sensed a movement in the woods ahead of me and I fired. If someone had moved I was not sure that I h
ad hit him.
“Captain Ferguson!”
“Sir!”
He came over to stand beside me. I spoke quietly and calmly to him. “Take charge here. See to the wounded and make sure these bastards are dead! Send the wounded to the hall. It is as safe as anywhere. Have our dead taken there too. We don’t want these lads to see their dead comrades.”
“Sir.”
“Collect any ammo. Repair any damage to the emplacement and go around all the men. Speak to them. They have lost friends and fought the deadliest killers in this part of the world. They need you to be calm and cheerful. We might think it is hopeless but we can’t let them know that. I will go to Alnwick Castle!”
“Yes sir!” He said, “You know I don’t regret this. I know I have not covered myself in glory but, if I stay on and have to lead men at least I can speak from experience.”
“Wait until you are back in England before you make such statements. The men will tell you it is bad luck.”
“I know sir but I wanted you to know that I appreciated what you have done for me. Just in case anything happens to me now. You are a superior officer but you are a friend and that is important to me.” He turned and was reloading his gun as he wandered over to the nearest men. “Right chaps, let’s see if we can make our little fort even stronger eh? We have some bloody rude neighbours!” The men laughed. Hugo had grown. I hoped he would survive.
I used the Mauser’s stock to push myself to my feet. The fight had made my wound leak even more. I put it from my mind. As I headed down the road I could hear the sounds of fighting from the crossroads. The night was lit up by the flash of muzzles and the sudden flaring as grenades, mortars and shells exploded. Even as I approached a 75 mm HE shell hit the house next to the one we had been using as a Command Post.
Sergeant Armstrong’s voice had become even more Geordie, “Get down sir! Sergeant Barker has been hit!”
I threw myself sideways into the timber gun emplacement at Alnwick Castle. An American was applying a field dressing to Sergeant Barker’s shoulder. Gordy looked up and gave me a thin smile. “Bit of a bugger eh sir? We will both be going back crocked.”
I nodded, “Aye Gordy, but we will be going back. I do not intend to lose this hamlet. These lads have fought like veterans and we are not going to give it up.” I looked at the American. “Get him back to the hall.”
“Yes sir.”
“I am fine, sir!”
“Then obey the order. Have your wound dressed and take charge at Buckingham Palace. If this falls then that becomes our Alamo.”
“Yes sir.” The medic helped him from the dugout.
“Situation Sergeant?”
“We managed to hit the tank sir. It was a Mark IV. The lads did well. It took six rockets but they stopped it. They hit the track and the turret but the beast can still fire.” He pointed. The tank was eighty yards away. They had done well to hit it. I saw that the gun could not depress because of the damage but that it could traverse through eleven or twelve degrees. It explained why it was limited in its targets and why they were not firing wastefully. It was the machine gun which was the danger. No one would be able to approach without being cut down. The tank itself was at the bottom of the slightest of slopes. “We have Jerry pinned down but we have no more PIAT rockets left.”
“What else do we have left?”
“We have a Browning .30 Calibre and two Bren guns. We are down to fifty rounds for each of them. We have the two mortars with ten rounds for each one. I have stopped using them. Who knows when we might need them.”
“Good decision. Where are the grenadiers?”
“They are using the tank as shelter. They know that we can’t budge it. They are saving their machine gun ammunition. We are pinned down.”
“Right. Let’s think how we can destroy that tank. If we get rid of that then they will have no machine gun and nowhere to hide.” The answer was staring me in the face but I was tired and the loss of blood must have affected me. I almost slapped myself when the idea came to me. “Can you hold on here, Sergeant?”
“Of course sir but what do you have in mind?”
“A little trick that worked quite well once before.”
Chapter 17
I knew what I needed and it was all back at Buckingham Palace. The two East Lancashire soldiers who had fired the PIAT now sheltered behind the emplacement. “You two, follow me.”
As we approached the house I saw that the jeep was still intact and parked next to the south wall of the house. “One of you grab the can of petrol and bring it inside.”
“Sir.”
When I went in I saw no sign of Gordy. They must have taken him upstairs to use the beds. I saw, on the floor, some of the bodies of our dead. They were covered by their greatcoats. I shook my head. They had done their duty. The Corporal was back on duty on the radio. “Anything?”
“There is a major German attack sir, in the south; somewhere called Alsace, south of Bastogne.”
I nodded, “Then we can’t expect any help any time soon. Corporal, wear your tin lid. The Jerry tank can still fire. It might well start firing here. We need you.”
“Yes sir. We have had a bit of plaster down already.”
I turned to the private, “Shaw isn’t it?”
“Sir.”
“Go upstairs and find a sheet, a towel, anything like that. Bring it down.” As Private Lowery came in I took the brandy bottle and poured its contents into the four mugs that were there. “Fill this with petrol.” As he did so I took one of the bottles of wine and, taking a corkscrew, opened it. Private Shaw came down. “Tear strips off the sheet, Private. Private Lowery go and empty this wine down the sink.”
“A waste sir.”
I smiled. I did not think that he would have drunk anything other than sherry in his life. I handed him the bottle. “Here Private, have a swig.”
He grinned, “Yes sir! Bottoms up!” He took a large drink. His face showed his displeasure. God sir that is disgusting! How the hell do the French drink it? No wonder you are pouring it away sir!”
He went into the kitchen at the back. Private Shaw came down. “Tear two strips off the sheet and give them to me.”
“Sir.”
He handed them to me. I took the strips of cloth and put them in the can of petrol. When they were soaked I rammed one into the brandy bottle. “Now fill the other with petrol and put one of these in the neck.”
It did not take long and I took the two petrol bombs with me. “Bring the can of petrol too.”
Even as we left more wounded were being helped into our makeshift hospital. Private Shaw said, quietly, “It is rammed upstairs, sir.”
“I know. We will have to try to end this then, won’t we?”
Just then Sergeant Barker came down the stairs. He saw the bottles in my hand. “Petrol bombs sir?”
“They worked before.”
“You aren’t going to throw them are you, sir? There are others who can…”
“Sergeant, we are all in the same boat. No one is more important than anyone else. Take charge here and see if you can let someone know that we are under siege.”
“Yes sir.”
“Give me your lighter eh? It is lucky.” He handed me his precious petrol lighter.
The snow had stopped and it was getting colder. Our breath misted as we walked. We ran the last forty yards crouched for the machine gunner in the tank could see us. Even though we zig zagged the machine gunner sent a short burst in our direction. The bullets sparked off the bricks of Buckingham Palace.
Once in the emplacement we were safe. Sergeant Armstrong sniffed. “Is that petrol sir?”
“It is. Let’s see if we can make it a little hot for our German friends eh? Shaw, do you think you can take the can and sneak around to the front. Go to the side slightly. I want you to lie down and open the jerrycan. Pour the petrol so that it flows down the snow. There is a hollow near to the tank and I want the petrol to gather there. When it is empty then thro
w the empty can as far down as you can.”
“What about the machine gun, sir?”
“They are using a spotter who is looking out of the driver’s visor. I intend to draw their fire here.”
He nodded, “Right sir.”
“Wait until I fire before you go out eh, Shaw?”
“Yes sir.”
I took the Mauser and checked it had a full magazine. There was a gap between two of the logs and I slid the barrel between it. I knew that as soon as I fired they would return fire from the machine gun. The range was only eighty yards and realistically I didn’t even need the telescopic sight but I used it anyway. I saw a face through the visor. I fired and the face fell back. It drew an immediate response. Bullets rattled against the wood. We all lay down. I had kept the gun in the same position and, without raising my head, I emptied the clip. The bullets would hit the tank and, with luck, one might rattle around inside. The Germans would keep firing at us and Shaw would be safe.
Shaw appeared behind me. “All done!” He looked like the cat which has had all the cream.
“Good lad. That is half the job. Now let’s finish it.” I handed the petrol bombs to him and his oppo. “Follow me.” The machine gun had stopped. Once outside we hunkered down behind the emplacement. “Private Shaw you know where the petrol is. When we light your bomb throw it as far down the slope as you can but you have to ignite the petrol, right?”
“Yes sir.”
“Private Lowery you are insurance. When Shaw’s bomb sets off the petrol then you throw your bomb as far as you can. If it does not work then give it to Shaw and he can have a second bite of the cherry.”
Private Shaw now looked worried. “And if that doesn’t work sir?”
“Then Private, I will crawl out and I will set fire to the petrol with the lighter.”
Private Lowery shook his head, “Bloody hell, Stan, how hard can it be? You poured the bloody petrol! Christ you can smell it!”
“I am just saying, Phil, that is all. Light me, sir!”
I lit the cloth, “Don’t hang around!”
He stood and hurled it high. He had ducked back down before the bullets were fired from the tank. Then we waited. A few moments later there was a whoosh as the petrol ignited. Private Lowery said, “Now me sir!”