Another darkened shape swept through the shroud, the flashes from the forward machine guns spurting bullets at the crippled fighter. Shrapnel flew from the German aircraft, the plane rising into the air slowly as thick black smoke poured from the engine, the FW190 exploding in a ball of flame.
The engine of the Panzer IV roared, Leutnant Siegfried Schmidt lowering the binoculars and glancing round as further engines around them burst into life, the tank crews nervously checking their steel chargers. He raised the glasses once more, his breath catching as he saw the first Russian tanks emerge from the smoke, then more…the black dots spreading across the white crest of the hill in the distance.
His gloved hands were shaking as he grasped the turret ring, slowly lowering his body through the hatch. Behind him, the thumps of German artillery broke through the distant machine gun fire and anti-tank shots that started suddenly.
The hatch swung shut with a clank, his crew silent as they saw his expression, his jaw twitching in grim determination. Slowly he raised the microphone, pausing before speaking, ‘Panzers Marche!’
The roars of engines filled the terrain, tracks squealed as the German long barrelled armour jolted forward. To their north, the forty four tanks of the 17th Panzer Division revved their engines, their crews staring wide eyed with lack of sleep from their long drive. On the right flank of Leutnant Schmidt’s 6th Panzer Division, the Sturmgeschutz III self-propelled guns slid forward in front of the village, their low hulls weaving as their drivers checked their controls. Further Panzer IVs and IIIs of the 23rd Panzer Division roared forward further south with one unit beginning to approach from the rear towards Verkhne Kumsky. The new Tiger I’s of the 503rd Heavy Tank Battalion were being deployed to the southern Russian Front for the first time.
Leutnant Siegfried Schmidt grasped the inside of the turret ring, the Panzer IV lurching into a rut on the right. Straightening himself, he thrust his eyes to the range finder, seeing swarms of figures following the Russian tanks down towards the river. Artillery shells zipped past from behind, the 88mm flak guns in the village behind opening fire on the enemy tanks in the distance.
He watched mesmerised as the explosions on the opposite bank threw up snow and debris. A flash as one of the high calibre shells found its mark, the Russian T34 bursting into flames as the shell penetrated its armour. Shell bursts filled the distant snow and his view finder as German artillery fired from the rear, the artillery landing in front of the Russian tanks.
Biting his lip, he grabbed the radio microphone, his voice high with adrenalin, ‘Hold at 700 metres…target their tanks as they rise from the river. Stay behind the brow of the slope…hull down!’ Static rose through his earphones, the tank commanders in his group all responding.
A clank next to him as the gunner forced an armoured piercing shell into the breach, the shout echoing round the inside of the hull, ‘Ready to fire!’
He watched as the forward pak guns fired round after round, their crews desperately reloading as the Russian tanks got nearer. The hundred plus Russian tanks ground forward, approaching the river bank, the infantry behind dropping into the snow as MG42 heavy machine guns opened fire from the German defensive positions.
Explosions rocked the tank, the enemy T34s firing wildly towards them as they advanced. He gripped his microphone again, ‘Target them as they cross the river…fire as they rise up on this side.’ He strained his eyes back through the view finder, the tank slowing before the edge of the decline, the driver estimating seven hundred metres. The Panzer IV’s on their flanks also ground to a halt, their mottled white camouflage hulls some twenty to thirty metres apart. Several small copses of trees and bushes were dotted across the slope below, some housing pak guns and machine gun positions.
The first wave of Russian tanks ground onto the frozen river, the ice cracking beneath them as they surged forward. Schmidt’s eyes widened as he saw more tanks emerge from the smoke, the T34’s and heavier KV1’s dotted all along the opposite bank. He frowned in frustration as the first few infantry from the forward positions began to rise from their positions, running back up the slope towards them in panic. Several were cut down, the remaining defenders staying in their foxholes and trenches as the Russian infantry surged forward once more.
Raising his microphone again, he glanced back through the range finder, ‘Hold for fire! Wait until they rise up the bank!’ Several tanks were burning on the opposite side of the river, the German gunners having claimed a number of victims. He stole another glance, the radio in his hand as he swore, ‘Scheisse! Smoke! Fire as they rise!’
The smoke grenades puffed across the river bank, several inexperienced and over eager Russian drivers forcing their armoured vehicles forward and up the slope. Schmidt grinned as the first turrets became visible on the bank line, his voice shaking with adrenalin, ‘Fire at will!’
The Panzers around him adjusted their guns slightly as the T34’s rose up the bank, then their guns barked, flames shooting from the long barrels as shells tore above the iced snow towards their targets. Explosions rocked the river bank, plumes of black smoke and flame rising into the air as several T34’s ground to a halt, their hatches opening as crews attempted to escape.
The gunner next to Schmidt fired, the tank jolting backwards and the empty shell casing clattered to the floor. Slamming another armoured piercing shell into the breach, the gunner pushed his eyes to the targeting sight, his voice excited, ‘Direct hit Herr Leutnant! Das ist ein Mickey Mouse!’
Schmidt grinned, the gunner referring to the look of the T34 when both turret hatches opened at once, the sight resembling an American cartoon character. Glancing back through the range finder, he could just make out the outline of the T34 as smoke swept around it. His nervousness rising, he clenched the microphone again, ‘Hit them as they come out of the smoke!’
Leutnant Schmidt stared through the range finder, becoming frustrated at the smoke rising in the distance, obscuring his vision. Shaking his head, he thrust himself upwards, throwing the hatch back and pushing his head into the cold air.
Startled, he looked up, the drone of aircraft engines above. Six Stuka dive bombers were high overhead, their pilots staring at the scene below on the river. Schmidt raised his binoculars, the Russian infantry beginning to surge through the smoke with their tanks. His eyes widened as the KV1 heavy tank slowly emerged, a surge of nervousness shooting through him as he glanced down, ‘You see it? Target KV1!’
The electrical motor whirred as the turret turned slightly, the excited shout from below, ‘Jawohl, Herr Leutnant!’ Explosions on the slope below, the Russian tanks firing wildly towards the German tanks, snow and frozen earth thrown into the air.
Schmidt stared through the glasses, the high angular Russian heavy tank shuddering as it fired at one of the pak guns, flames erupting from the emplacement. The heavily armoured enemy tank slowly grinding forward.
The Panzer IV jolted backwards, the shell flying towards its target. Leutnant Schmidt stared through his binoculars as the smoke billowed around him, the KV1 shuddering again as the German shell bounced off the front of its heavy armoured plate. Schmidt gritted his teeth, glancing down, ‘Hit it again!’
The breach clanked below as the Panzer IV’s to either side shuddered, their shells flying towards the smoke on the river bank. The stench of artillery and burning filled the air, Schmidt looking up as the distinctive screams of the Stuka bombers filled the landscape. Flying at an almost vertical angle, the dive bombers swept down towards the river, the black dots from their bellies falling as the pilots pulled back on their sticks to bank away.
Flames rose into the air along the river as the tank jolted again, flames belching from the barrel as the heat swept across Schmidt’s exposed upper face. He strained his eyes through the glasses, to his dismay the shell flying past the KV1.
Black dots appeared on the horizon, the Luftwaffe returning after the fighting to the Russian rear. The clank of the breach below distracted Schmidt as the arti
llery crumps behind began. Several of the Luftwaffe fighters and bombers were damaged, the darkened smoke trails behind them indicating the severity of the air battle.
Then he tensed…behind the Luftwaffe fighters were more dots, many more than had set out. His breath held, he stared through the binoculars, seeing the Russian infantry swarm forward as more Russian tanks emerged from the continual smoke. His heart sank as he realised, grasping the microphone, his voice trembling as he raised the alarm, ‘Russian fighter bombers!’ He hesitated, staring down the slope, ‘Keep firing on their tanks…move when their planes get nearer!’
The Panzer rocked again, the gunner firing on an emerging T34. Leutnant Siegfried Schmidt stared down the slope, the Russian infantry surging into the forward defensive positions, overwhelming the German defenders…Russian tanks firing as they swept over trenches and foxholes, explosions spreading up the slope towards them. Tanks were smouldering on the riverbank, plumes of black smoke rising into the air. Smoke filled his vision as the main gun fired again, the tank jolting, turret machine guns rattling on either side of him as the tank commanders started to fire at the advancing Russian infantry.
The German fighters and fighter bombers swept overhead, returning to their airfields as he stared at the oncoming Russian Yaks and Sturmoviks. Quad guns barked on either side as the German anti-aircraft batteries opened fire, the puffs of black smoke erupting across the sky.
Leutnant Siegfried Schmidt ducked down instinctively, shaken from his distraction as the Panzer IV jolted again. The deep distinctive roar of V12 engines filled the air as ME109’s swept low overhead, their front machine guns and cannons beginning to blaze as they closed on the Russian aircraft ahead.
Explosions and flames erupted before them further down the slope as the Russian fighter bombers dropped their deadly cargo and began to bank sharply, realising in horror they had overshot most of their fighter support. The ME109’s beginning to chase them across the sky as the air battle began again overhead.
Schmidt grasping his microphone as he saw in horror the T34’s and KV1’s grinding up the slope towards them with infantry support, even more Russian tanks starting to cross the river and on the slope beyond, ‘Stay hull down! Keep firing!’ His gunner shaking his head in despondency, there were too many Russian tanks to hold…
Surviving defenders began to run past the tank line, the great-coated soldiers and gun crews gasping for breath as they fled in panic towards the rear. Schmidt shaking his head as he saw some were from Luftwaffe ground units, their training and ability now questionable. Bullets clattered against the tank’s turret, the commander ducking instinctively. The Panzer’s long barrelled gun barked again, flames belching from the muzzle as machine guns rattled and tanks fired to either side. Schmidt slipped back inside the turret, his adrenalin surging once more as he moved to the machine gun position, shouting into the microphone determinedly, ‘We stop them all here!’
The Panzer rocked as the explosions drew closer, the Russian tank gunners aiming at the muzzle flashes above them on the crest of the slope. Two jets of flame surged into the air, the T34 tanks hit by incoming shells from the Panzer IV’s as they began to climb the snowed slope further, their wide tracks grinding through the iced surface. Powdered snow swirled around the tanks, the movement and freezing breeze churning the white blanket below further.
Leutnant Schmidt glanced through the range finder again, his teeth grinding as he heard the revving engines further to the right. The engine noise roared further, the radio crackling in his ears as the commander of the nearby units excited voice surged through the earphones, ‘We will engage Herr Leutnant…there are too many to hold! You can then pull your Panzers back to hit them as they come over the rise?’
Siegfried Schmidt bit his lip again in frustration, tasting blood, his adrenalin rising as he grasped the microphone, ‘Very well…we will cover you until the last minute!’ The Panzer jolted again, the clatter of a shell casing dropping into the cabin, the heat sweeping over them. He leaned towards the microphone again, hesitating briefly, ‘Second and third companies pull back, target the crest…the rest with me, cover the advance from the right!’
The static soared as his unit commanders replied, gunfire echoing all along the ridge as the Panzers fired at the advancing Russian tanks. Shells zipped past, the Russian T34’s now only three hundred metres further down the slope, a Panzer IV’s turret to the left erupting as the shell from a KV1 found its mark. Further down the bank, the surviving infantry and defensive positions desperately engaged the Russian infantry in a battle for survival, machine gun tracers and bullets whipping across the snow.
The 88mm Flak guns in the village behind fired onto the tanks approaching the river, their forward artillery observer frantically radioing in the anticipated coordinates from the brow of the hill as the Russian tanks advanced. Around him, the engines roared again, the charismatic and unpredictable commander rising out of his upper hatch to spur his countrymen on, his voice a scream of adrenalin, ‘Advance…Into the flames of hell!’ He dropped down into his armoured vehicle, the white mottle camouflaged Sturmgeschutz III’s surging forward, bouncing over the crest and using the two copses of trees before them as cover as they accelerated towards the Russian tanks.
The lead Stug III swept round the trees, its Panzer III base ideal for a fast manoeuvring environment, Firing at the nearest T34, the Russian tank shuddered as the shell hit and penetrated its hull, flames pouring from the turret as the ammunition inside exploded. The German SPG’s swerved and accelerated through and in between the Russian tanks, the enemy crews stunned at the action, their main guns unable to respond as the German machines weaved quickly between their armoured vehicles. The Russian commanders frantically spun their turret controls, attempting to engage the faster Stug machines, but the German crews were veterans at close combat, knowing to keep moving…to keep shooting…as the slower Russian armour attempted to react.
The remaining Panzer IV’s on the crest fired smoke, the signal that their other companies had withdrawn, the adrenalin fuelled Stug commander shouting into his microphone, ‘Full retreat into the smoke…weave and the Russkies will pursue us onto our guns!’ His earphones crackled as the driver next to him grinned, the machine surging forward through the Russian vehicles as the Stug jolted again, the main gun belching fire and blowing the left tracks off a KV1. Shrapnel crashed against the side of the hull as the tracks squealed, the low self-propelled gun swerving to head into the smoke, five other machines following their commander’s example along the line. The Russian armoured vehicles and their furious crews charged after them, the crest of the slope now only one hundred metres away, their infantry struggling through the snow behind, the German machine guns quiet behind them.
Leutnant Siegfried Schmidt shouted into the microphone, the roar of the Panzer’s engine loud in the cabin as the first company of tanks withdrew at top speed from the brow of the slope, ‘Target the T34’s as they come over the ridge! Be wary the Stugs are coming back…and hopefully first…don’t hit our own men!’ The earphone speakers burbled in response, the retreated Panzers spaced in the trees and bushes across the snow in the distance, awaiting the Russian advance to emerge through the smoke. A number of burning tanks of their countrymen lining the ridge.
In the frozen village of Verkhne Kumsky, the 88mm and pak 40 gun crews thrust fresh shells into their breaches, the German machine gunners lowering themselves behind their sights, clouds of exhaled breath from their exertions hanging in the air around them. High above the battlefield, the vapour trails of Russian and German fighters weaved across the heavens, the freezing temperatures reducing visibility in the cockpits as pilots chased each other across the sky.
The battle would continue for another day and a half (two days in total), the Germans finally driven back to the River Alksay. The defenders in the village, Verkhne Kumsky, cut off in the distance. The Germans threw all their reserves into the battle, determined once and for all to break through the Red
Army towards Stalingrad. Finally, the Tigers I’s of Heavy Tank Battalion 503 roared forward towards the German line…
Leutnant Siegfried Schmidt stared through his binoculars towards the top of the snow covered slope above, knowing the Russian tanks were beyond it. His Panzer IVs were sat in predetermined positions, their hulls protected by the undulating terrain, their turrets protruding to fire on any ambitious enemy tanks that ventured over the rise.
His own tank and two others sat in trees, their long barrels extending beyond the snow laden frozen branches in readiness. He lowered the glasses, sipping from a water bottle as the planes fought overhead, the distant sounds of machine guns and explosions sweeping across the landscape.
The radio crackled in his ears, the frightened infantryman’s voice breaking through the static, ‘The Russians are breaking into the village. We have held them for a day, but they have brought up tanks…we are short of ammunition. Their infantry are in the outskirts…a tank in the main street.’
Schmidt shook his head in despair, the Russian tank force ahead too strong. The static rose again as several Luftwaffe ME109’s swept overhead, the tank commander straining his ears to hear. The determined voice broke through, booming across the earphones, his eyes widening in surprise, ‘Hold on…we are coming! An hour maybe more, but we are coming for you…keep fighting! Tell the soldiers to hold!’
Schmidt spun round, glancing frantically across the terrain, seeing the other tankers in their turrets duplicating his actions, several raising their binoculars. The burble of engines slowly swept across them, the black dressed men in their turrets turning their scarf covered faces towards the noise to the south.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 69