Breakthrough (The Red Gambit Series) (53 page)

“Comrade Mladshy Leytenant. Can we be of
any
assistance?”

Stelmakh slipped his pistol back into his pouch as he stared into the eyes of the tank sergeant.

“No help needed
,
thank you, Starshina.
The
Tridsat’s
engine died but has now
loyally
rejoined us, ready for the advance.”

The Starshina did not relax his grip on the PPSh, his eyes flicking between the pistol and the white face of the tank sergeant.

As if suddenly realising he was holding a pistol, Stelmakh laughed.

“I had to threaten it of course, Comrade Starshina.”

Slipping the Tokarev back into its holster, Stelmakh dropped to the ground.

The men exchanged further salutes
, the Starshina’s look informing Stelmakh that he understood only too well what had come to pass. He climbed back into
the
captured
Opel blit
z and accelerated away.

Chelpanov
stepped onto the front hull
,
sitting on the leading edge of the turret and
exchanging a look of relief with his driver.

The Lieutenant
turned and
spoke softly to the tank Sergeant.

“We are all afraid, Comrade, but we must go on.”

The Sergeant looked shocked,
still
coming to terms with the fact that he was not going to be summarily shot.

“I don’t want to die. I’ve done my share, Sir. I just want to go home.”

Stelmakh looked at his
own
driver, who could only shrug.

Turning back to the Sergeant, he could only speak from the heart.

“We are all soldiers of the Rodina, and she has called us to fight against aggression once more. Many have done their share
,
Comrade, and yet they still go fo
rward. Can you or I hold back and
hide
when
such men continue to do their duty?”

The sergeant
replied with resignation
.

“It is fine for you, brave and unblooded
. You have no idea
,
Comrade, no idea what it is like to be so afraid!”

Stepanov had been slowly climbing up to the turret but heard the tankman’s words and bounded forward, grabbing the man by the lapels.

“You useless
fucking
prick! You think you are the only man who is scared on the battlefield?
Fucking i
diot!”

Calming himself, he let the sergeant go and adjusted the slipped strap of his submachine gun.

“I
’
ve been in combat since 1941
,
and I have never felt brave or invulnerable. I always feel scared, as does the Starshy here,” he indicated Stelmakh,
climbing back up the side of the tank,
who suddenly realised that he had not fooled his crew one iota.

“B
ut he goes on, through his fear;
and he fights
!
”

Stepanov answered Stelmakh’s unspoken questio
n with a shrug and a half-smile before turning back to the object of his diatribe.

“We are all scared, always scared. What it is important is that our courage overcomes and we do what we can, for the Motherland and our comrades, those we know by name and those we have never heard of.”

The silence was broken by artillery falling to their south, far enough away not to cause concern but close enough to remind all of the trial ahead.

The Sergeant sighed.

“You are right of course. I am sorry. I ordered my crew to do what they did, and they are not to blame. What would you have me do
,
Comrade Leytenant?”

Stelmakh smiled genuinely
,
and slapped the man on the shoulder.

“Remember what this man just said
,
and look after your comrades. Now, I believe you are supposed to be up there?”
he indicated
the distant houses.

“Thank you
,
Comrade
Starshy Leytenant
.”

“Oh, and Serzhant. We will say no more about this unfortunate...?”

He looked at Stepanov, seeking the words.

“Filter blockage, comrade Starshy Leytenant. I have no doubt that on next maintenance, the driver will be able to produce evidence of a blockage.”

That message was received by the man in the front of the T34.

“We will say no more of this blockage, Comrade Serzhant. Good luck.”

The Sergeant saluted
and dropped into the turret, deciding to get his tank moving before the officer changed his mind.

The two riders dropped off the tank and watched as it sped away.

“Nice speech
,
Comrade
Driver
.”

“Thank you Sir. Sorry about…well… you know.”

“No problem, Stepanov.
True words.”

They reached the IS-III and mounted.

“Mind you, Comrade Starshy Leytenant, I have heard a rumour that half of all medals are won by someone retreating in the wrong direction.”

The turret crew heard the laughter but missed the joke, both driver and commander settling in to their place
s with smiles on their faces.

Stelmakh’s smile disappeared as a thought overcame the humour of the moment.

‘Was it a joke?’

He put
it
from his mind
to concentrate on the job ahead
.

“Tank, forward.”

The battleground was narrow and flat, with next to no room to manoeuvre, so much of the surrounding ground sodden and impassable, or full of irrigation ditches.

Firepower would rule, unless some other intervention could turn the day

Fig #44
- Flanking attack at Jork
.

‘Polotsk’
caught up with the lead elements, or more accurately, found the lead elements gone to ground on the western edge of Jork.

Chelpanov ordered the T34 to pull over, where an infantry officer was waving to get his attention.

The Sergeant dropped down from the turret and the
Engineer
Captain immediately took the tank commander to a gap between two houses.

No field glasses were needed to see that a sizeable enemy force was
declaring itself
on the road
to
their front, slowly pushing towards their current position.

“One of the bastard’s hit a mine
some distance back
and it’s slowed them up. You need to slow them up more
,
Comrade Serzhant. I will keep the infantry off you
,
but you have to stop the tanks.”

“I will do what I can
,
Comrade Kapitan.”

The Engineer officer coughed violently but heard and acknowledged the reply.

Quickly peering over the fence
,
Chelpanov immediately spotted what he was looking for.

“That’s my prime position
,
Comrade Kapitan
. Get your men out of the way of it and I will fight from there at first.”

“It is done. Good luck Comrade.”

Captain
Onipchenko
moved off towards the position Chelpanov had selected, shouting and waving his arms at a group based around a Maxim heavy machine gun.

Returning to his tank, Chelpanov quickly briefed his men and the T34 moved out from its position into a small
hollow behind a pile of blackened bricks that
was
once the country retreat of a member of the local Gauleiter’s staff.

The move was seen by the lead M
5
Stuart, which broadcast the contact report immediately.

However, R
oute 140 was a narrow road and the ground either side not suited to armoured vehicles, restricting movement and escape options, vital to the survival of light tanks.

The
Soviet
85mm spoke first, the solid shell tearing virtually straight up the road and missing the
US
light tank by a coat of paint.

T
he Stuart could do nothing to harm the T34, even if it
had stopped to fire accurately, its armour piercing capability insignificant. Neither did it possess a smoke shell to create some sort of cover. What it did possess was engine power, and t
he twin Cadillac engines gave the
Stuart an excellent top speed. I
n this case
,
all they did was drive the vehicle closer to its end.

‘Polotsk’s’ gunner did not miss a second time, although the shell killed neither the tank nor the
inexperienced
crew inside, smashing into the front offside, removing the drive sprocket as neatly as a surgeon with a scapel, and sending pieces of the track flying.

The crew deb
us
sed rapidly, before the T34 could fire a
nother
shot.

The Maxim crew, still annoyed at being turfed out of their lovely firing position, vented their rage on the American tankers, 7.62mm bullets sending them to ground in search of whatever cover the bare
soil
could provide.

‘Polotsk’ sought and found a new target. It was dispatched with a single shell
,
a second
Stuart tank burning readily along with most of its crew.

Other Stuarts were moving back, their commanders and gunners tossing smoke grenades out of their hatches, desperate to cover their withdrawal.

They were replaced by three
Shermans
from a troop of ‘A’ Squadron, one of which was a deadly Firefly.

Lieutenant-Colonel Krol was already raging, the slowness of his recon advance the first cause, losses in light tanks the second.

Ordering one squadron of his Shermans forward, he immediately switched his axis of advance southwards from the crossroads, intending to bypass Jork to the south, using route 38 through Westerladekop before rejoining the ‘26’ to drive down to Cuxhavener Stra
β
e and into the rear of the
Soviet
defences.

Unfortunately for him, as he made his decision, forty-five tons of
Soviet
tank was already driving hard up Westerladekop, heading westwards.

Behind ‘Krasny Suka’, another IS-III, as promised by Evanin, drove har
d to reinforce the
Soviet
effort, pushed along the road by the
impending presence of two T34 tank companies and a battalion of lorried engineers.

Unfortunately for the
Soviet
forces
,
two events then took over and delivered a disaster.

In the first instance, the IS-III was straining hard to
avoid
hold
ing
up the faster
moving
troops behind it
,
and the strain told as the engine noisily ripped itself apart, the smoking and crippled tank coming to rest in the middle of the road
,
with the column behind closing fast.

In the second instance,
the tanks and lorries
started to bunch
up
on a straight road,
which
coincided
with the passing of aircraft from the two light ca
rriers, HMS Argus and HMS Queen, steaming off the coast of northern Holland
, sending their Naval aircraft out
in support of ground operations.