by Tom Zola
"This time I'm sure," Sergeant Münster explained. The lieutenant looked down at his driver.
"This time I'm sure," he repeated, "that we'll be dealing with a Tiger tank with red stars on it right away." Münster looked up at his comrades with an expectant face.
"Don't talk nonsense," Staff Sergeant Nitz hissed.
"I told you a thousand times the Soviets didn't steal that damned tin can," Engelmann threw in.
"And I think they did. Who else would steal a Tiger?"
"It wasn't stolen! The morons dumped it somewhere, and then didn't dare confess that to their company commander."
"What about partisans?" Private First Class Ludwig hazarded.
"It has not been stolen, for god's sake," Engelmann made clear once and for all. "No Red knows how to operate a thing like that."
"We'll see … " Münster murmured.
The enemy forces approached; inexorably the rows of breaking sunflowers rolled towards the Germans. Engelmann clung with both hands to the lid flaps of his cupola, while the loudspeakers of his headphones cracked silently. Nitz had put the company frequency on the lieutenant's headset, so that he could command his entire unit directly.
Then the enemy broke out of the field, and the steel storm began. German shells pelted into Soviet T-34s, which rolled out of the yellow sunflower sea everywhere. Tongues of flames danced over Russian tanks, ammunition loads detonated, turrets were blown off. But once again the enemy appeared in great numbers. The field spewed out more and more tanks, which crashed onto the plain that lay between the German line and the sunflower field. The distance between the opponents was just about 200 meters. Every hit meant death and destruction. If Engelmann was normally anxious to fight at a greater distance, he had to rethink this now since he had been put into a Panzer III. Those tanks with their five-centimeter barrels could only become dangerous for a Russian T-34 and comparable combat vehicles in absolute close combat. Since the Russians in this section once more showed up with incredible masses of people and materiel, and the Kampfgruppe Sieckenius still had some of the no-longer-produced Panzer III in its inventory, the Major General in command had decided to meet the Russians behind the protection of the sunflower curtain. The muffled striking of powerful anti-aircraft guns and the lighter banging of anti-tank canons – a German gun battery was located 100 meters behind the front troops on a slight ridge – mixed with all the other noise of the war.
Engelmann dived into the shelter his panzer turret offered and quickly closed the hatch, while Russian tank shells darted over the German positions. Right in front, a T-34 raced at full speed across the battlefield.
"Tank in transverse!" the lieutenant shouted. "Fire!"
Franzi’s barrel vibrated as the projectile shot out. It hit the Russian tank on the side, making it half-turn with the force of the impact. A detonation from inside finally threw the turret into the air. Rust-red flames shot out of the tank and wrapped it in smoke.
Both fronts spat fire. On a width of two kilometers, the Germans and Russians hammered at each other. Behind the T-34s, infantry troops stormed out of the field. On the German side, MG nests, which lay in position between the cannons, opened fire. The initial German fire attack had exacted high losses from the Russians, but now, as more and more Soviet soldiers and vehicles stormed the battlefield, numerous German positions and anti-tank guns were blown apart. The Russian infantry pushed forward relentlessly, while dozens of men fell in the German defensive fire. Most of them remained still once they hit the ground. Nevertheless, red infantrymen swept against German gun positions in mass waves, while the T-34s concentrated on their panzer counterparts. The battle was murderous, overlaid with a crescendo of deadly racket.
Engelmann gritted his teeth while Jahnke, his new loader, pushed the next tank shell into the gun’s automated breech.
A detonation just in front of Franzi ripped the earth open and wrapped the tank in a cloak of earth and turf. Through his vision block, the lieutenant spotted a T-34 that had taken up position 150 meters in front of his tank. Engelmann looked directly into the dark muzzle of the tank's barrel.
"Half left, 150, single T-34," he screamed with a hoarse throat as Ludwig swiveled the turret and brought it to bear on the target.
"Have him!" the gunner finally yelled.
"Fire!"
In the twilight of the setting sun, the T-34 exploded right in front of Engelmann's eyes. The lieutenant wiped the sweat off his forehead. Once again the acrid stench of battlefield air was in his tank. It smelled of fire, of boiling oil, and of all sorts of body vapors.
Nitz, who listened to the frequency of the regiment via his radio, browsed his notebook of encryption codes, then raised his head and reported: "On behalf of the regimental commander, we're ordered not to break out of our line! The Stukas are almost here!" The sergeant plucked his mustache nervously and turned towards the radio again. The German dive bombers approaching from the northwest should be visible from the battlefield, but Engelmann could not see them through the narrow eye slit.
Daylight is almost gone, he moaned silently.
The battle of attrition continued. The Russian and German lines were further thinned out with each volley of cannons. German machine gun crews were now killing enemy infantrymen as they broke out of the sunflower field. The Red Army soldiers took positions under heavy losses. But German infantrymen also bled: they were hit with metal fragments of shattering guns, or were directly targeted by Russian weapons.
An entire squadron of 60 Luftwaffe dive bombers surged into the battle, engines roaring. In fact, the German air force once again with great effort accomplished the feat of gaining air superiority over the numerical-advantaged Voyenno-Vozdushnye Sily – the Russian Air Force – in the section of Army Group South. The Soviet tankers, however, had recognized the danger from the air and let their engines howl. Some engaged reverse gear and retreated back into the field. Auto-cannon rounds chased after them, hurling sunflowers up into the air.
"Gutless Bolsheviks!" Münster shouted. Through his narrow eye slit he had only a few Russian tanks in view, all which retreated back into the sunflower field. Meanwhile, Engelmann's eyes widened. Uncoordinated as ever, nevertheless the majority of the enemy tank forces did not retreat, but had seemingly come to a silent agreement to step on the gas, dashing into the German positions.
Exploding shells dug funnels into the ground, while most of the enemy’s steely front rolled forward and finally banged into the German lines. The two armored armies interlocked, shooting from close range at each other. Fireballs covered numerous steel colossi. Others just stayed lying down while all life died inside them. The tank then froze while its crew perished miserably. In the background, the Stukas plunged down, their Jericho trumpets shrieking, but they could not strike where Russian and German fighters wrestled at bayonet range. Through their headless and courageous attack, the Russians had shaken off the German air superiority. The steel birds with the strangely-bent wings circled the sky in search of prey, which for its part tried to escape from the hustle and bustle of battle. The dive bombers hummed like irritated bumblebees.
From close range, the opponents mauled each other. The decimated Russian attackers suffered further losses, and now both Germans and Soviets were wildly uncoordinated and the battle mixed to a grey-olive confusion.
Engelmann clawed himself with all his might to his seat, which was attached to the turret wall like the gunner's place. He spat out target assignations, then Ludwig fired again and again – seven kills already claimed during this battle. Burning tanks lined the battlefield, and tankers from both sides tried to scramble free. Charred corpses were scattered all over the place. Some were crushed by tank tracks. First gaps occurred in the German frontline as more and more panzers went down the drain. Many, however, received only hits in the tracks or had their turrets jammed, and would be recoverable by the workshop companies later – assuming the Germans hung on to win this encounter. The Russians recklessly bumped into such gaps, w
hich was the only way they could avert their downfall: They had to break through the German tank line and engage the guns behind in close combat. In any other case, within a very short time they would be dismembered by the 88-millimeter Flaks, which were mercilessly firing straight into the turmoil of tanks of both armies.
"Anna 1 to all. Take new position at those shrubs with the three destroyed Panzers IV at two o'clock. We lock that area down completely, otherwise the Russians will break through to our Pak batteries," Engelmann shouted into the microphone of his headset, trying to drown out the clamor of the battle, which penetrated the steel armor as a muffled carpet of noise. At the same time, 10th Company with its 14 remaining battle tanks broadened its defense line to also support Engelmann’s 9th Company. Once again, radio communication was a great thing.
Münster accelerated, set the next gear with the shift lever, and pressed the clutch pedal, then the tank jerked off. With rattling tracks, Engelmann's company inserted itself into the gap, which had also been discovered by a group of T-34s. They immediately fired at the 9th's panzers, but the Germans were lucky. Anna 3 got its right track blown to pieces, and the rest of the shells missed their target. Both groups of tanks were racing directly towards each other, now less than 30 meters apart. Nitz had immediately reported the gap to the regiment. A clever man at the other end of the line promptly initiated countermeasures. Immediately, a wall of dirt was thrown up in front of the Russian tanks as a battery of eight-eights opened fire on them. The gun crews quickly found the right range, and the Red tanks flew apart, exploding and sending their turrets high in the air. There was nothing left of the crews but burned flesh. Engelmann's tanks rushed into the gap the next moment. When the curtain of earth dipped, there was still one T-34, which now went full-throttle directly to where Franzi held her ground. Both fired at the same time. The German shell hissed over the Russian tank, while Engelmann’s tank clattered and banged as he absorbed the hit. The panzer jumped forward before the engine died. The steely walls were boiling hot from the energy of the impact, but in the end, the projectile had hit nothing vital – a miracle! The MG in the front hull had been shredded, the steel around it torn open and scorched. Nitz's radio had been destroyed, which became obvious when the sergeant screamed as he accidentally touched the glowing steel.
Münster pressed the starter, but the engine remained silent. Once again he tried to start it. And again. Nothing happened. Engelmann pressed his face against the Kinon glass of his vision block and had Ludwig swing the turret to the right. He had lost sight of the surviving T-34.
"The engine's gone," Münster roared.
"Radio down," Nitz added, breathless.
By hand-cranking, Ludwig rotated the turret to the right, where Engelmann suddenly saw the enemy tank heading straight for him. He only closed his eyes in anticipation of the collision; there was not enough time to do anything more. A huge blow shook Franzi and threw the crew inside all about. The lieutenant was tossed from his seat and crashed into the turret's steel wall before whirling against Jahnke. Engelmann moaned loudly as a violent pain shot through his left hand. He immediately held on to the injured spot, which swelled in a flash and shimmered bluish. The whole Panzer III rattled as the T-34 pushed it forward before it finally elevated Franzi by shoving itself between her and the underground. Engelmann's panzer threatened to tip over. A swift "Our Father" scampered through his spirit, even though he did not want to call upon God on the battlefield. He clung to his commander's seat with his right hand and tried to pull himself up again.
"Damned slow-poke!" Münster hissed, and he fired the starter again and again. Suddenly, Franzi’s engine roared to life.
"Yes, sweetheart!" the driver gasped out. He got the clutch engaged and accelerated. The transmission made a sound like a saw blade eating into hardwood as the gears meshed. The tracks began to move, clattering. The steel groaned as the right tread went over the enemy tank's hull, while the left tread dug into the earth. Franzi lunged forward, her right side impacted back on the ground. Immediately Münster sped her up, while the T-34 was blown up in a fireball – Engelmann's gunner had opened fire immediately after Franzi had released herself from the tank dovetailing.
Now Franzi drove clockwise in a circle until Münster threw himself into the levers and steered in the opposite direction. Apparently, the rear idler wheels had taken a blow after all. Lieutenant Engelmann pulled himself up in his seat and took his post again. He moaned briefly as he grazed the armatures with his injured hand. It hurt terribly.
"Claim it as a wound," whistled Nitz. "That’ll get you your Wound Badge in gold!"
"Oh, don't be silly, Ebbe."
Engelmann pressed his face against the narrow vision block as he tried to endure the throbbing pain in his hand.
"Turn the turret back," he ordered. In the meantime, he could see nothing more than the tanks already shot to pieces. Farther back in the sunflower field, artillery fire plunged down and tore the plants apart.
"Blimey!" Engelmann spat out and held his wounded hand. He no longer had radio contact with his tanks, and with only the narrow vision block, he could forget about getting a proper overview. He bit his lower lip while the motionless, suffocating warm air surrounding them made him sweat like his body was a spring itself. His face glared from sweat, and his hair was so wet it was as if he had been bathing. His tanker helmet slipped back and forth on his head, and underneath it, his scalp itched terribly. Engelmann was still fighting with himself, but he knew who would win the duel between his inner soldier and his instinct for self-preservation and duty as a family man – it was the soldier, as it so often did. Which he sometimes regretted.
With his uninjured hand, he pushed open both lids of his hatch, then – after a moment gaining enough courage – he stretched out his upper body and thus was exposed on the battlefield. In a flash, he turned around in all directions, trying to get a full picture of the situation. The most important thing first: His company was still intact, even if Anna 3 was stuck a little farther back, not able to move. Everywhere, there were isolated Russian tanks in retreat, while the battleground was littered with burning or motionless wrecks. The Russian infantry tried to disengage and move back where they had come from, but German bullets and shells chased them mercilessly and cut up what was left of the sunflower field. The Russian attack was over. Stukas roared down and pounced on the escaping enemy. Pak and Flak thundered into all Soviet movements. The German line had withstood the attack, but dozens of the combat formation's panzers were destroyed in the action, and many more German soldiers had been killed. Engelmann let himself sink back into his tank and sat down. It wasn't over yet, not by a long shot. The Russians threatened to retake Kharkov and the surrounding area with strong attack forces. Kampfgruppe Sieckenius had only fought off, with considerable losses, what had been merely a kind of vanguard.
The situation was tense and dangerous, because Ivan had hit the Wehrmacht unexpectedly and violently. After the success at Kursk, German High Command had assumed that the Soviets would be so badly burned that they would not even start their summer offensive – only to find out that General Zhukov was bold enough to insist on the planned offensive movements anyway, and thus gave the Germans a real surprise. With three attack formations, he was currently pushing into the German lines in the area from Belgorod to Kharkov, and had achieved some deep breakthroughs. The Voronezh Front and the Steppe Front had gathered their troops for this purpose. In the south, the 57th Soviet Army surged past Kharkov and then turned north, where it was about to unite with the 1st Tank Army and the 5th Guards Army, which had gotten north of Kharkov and were right now trying to turn northwest of the city. Both the 1st Tank Army and the 5th Guards Army had suffered enormous losses due to Operation Citadel. They had been augmented in a hasty ad hoc reinforcement effort from the staging area. It seemed almost as if the Soviets were simply grabbing all the units within their reach, putting them haphazardly into the armies that had started the attack, and desperately throwing them
against the German lines. After all, the fact that the Russians only attacked here with a few armies, instead of with entire fronts, proved that their resources were also finite.
Finite maybe, but almost endless compared to what the Germans had.
The German troops had still not been able to stop the Russian advance, even though they once again inflicted enormous losses on their enemy. Farther north, the 7th Soviet Army together with the 5th Guards Army passed Belgorod to the south to turn north behind the city. Here the situation was truly dangerous: the equivalent of more than four Soviet Armies remained in the pocket west of Kursk. These forces had still not surrendered and posed a serious threat. The Germans only held a narrow strip of land on the eastern edge of the pocket, from Olkhovatka via Kursk to Belgorod. The German 6th Army was there in action; it had been augmented with two reserve corps. Should the Russian 7th Army succeed in pushing into the pocket, not only would the Wehrmacht units in the Kursk area be cut off to the south, but the encircled Soviet troops would also be set free and pour out over the surrounding German formations. The catastrophe would be inevitable.
But there was also a Russian attack in the Oryol region going on. If both offensive attempts were successful, the German units in and around Kursk would suddenly be cut off. Anyone who took a closer look at the situation map realized that Zhukov did not only rely on mass. Zhukov was a brilliant tactician. He had correctly recognized the German weak points in the front, had taken advantage of the opportunity, and within days had launched a powerful, even if improvised counterattack. He risked a lot. A failure would not only bring the Russians even higher losses, it would also immobilize the Red Army for at least one year, because Zhukov had apparently thrown all reserves into the battle.
The Red Army was on the move everywhere on the Eastern Front. Even Leningrad was being fought over. There the Soviets tried with all their might to blow up the siege ring around the city, which so cruelly held the population in its clutches.