Impasse (The Red Gambit Series) (23 page)

Haines thought that the rate of tank losses would ensure that all his assets were up front soon enough, but kept the thought to himself.

“These tanks at Stossau, Capitano. Why not move them up closer?”

Pappalardo had spotted the six tanks from A-17/21, set back as a reserve.

“Nötsch is the short answer, Colonel.”

For the first time, Haines realised that the major issue was even clearer on the Italian Army map.

“Our maps were inferior, so we initially missed this possibility,” his finger described the road that bypassed the front line and led straight from Villach to Nötsch.

“
Ah, this is why your Generale di Brigata needed my battalion. And your tanks too?”

Haines kept a straight face.

“Yes, Colonnello, we’ve sent a group of five heavy tanks from the Royal Armoured Corps to back up your men.”

He took a quick look at his watch and smiled.

“They should be arriving any time now, Sir.”

‘
If they know what’s sodding good for them!’

“
Excellente, Capitano, excellente.”

The Italian screwed up his eyes, examining a notation more closely.

“What is Inniskilling?”

“
Irishmen, Colonel. Survivors from a battle up north. Enough escaped to form two platoons, which are sat there as a reserve. Of limited use, I’m afraid. The men are knackered, Sir, totally knackered.”

“Nakered?”

“Tired, exhausted and fought out, Colonel.”

“
Ah, I understand. Then we will leave them alone for now, Captain.”

The Inniskillings that had escaped Puch were taken out of the 1st Royal Irish where they had taken refuge and sent back to the rear, where reinforcements were intended to marry up and make the unit an effective fighting force once more.

However, the requirements of war overtook the idea in short order.

The Colonel cast his cap to one side and selected a thin c
igarette from his case, lit it and pored over the details of his force.

“
Now, what can we do to annoy our red friends?”

“
You mean attack them, Colonel?”

“
Yes, of course. I have spent too long running alongside the Germans not to know the value of a good counter-attack when it is least expected.”

‘Now you’re my sort of fucking Colonel.’

Much as the Italian really did want to have a go, there was simply not enough information to make any informed judgement on a possible counter-attack, so he reluctantly let the idea slide... if only for a moment.

One of the other staff members suggested that the bridge at Furnitz might need some attention and Colonel Papp
alardo jumped at the possibility.

“
Do we have the ammunition for such fire? Without affecting our defence?”

Without needing to check, the staff Lieutenant spoke with certainty.

“Most certainly, Sir. There’s absolutely no problem with our ammunition supply for artillery. The RA boys are sat on top of an ammo depot.”

“
Then let us send the Communists at the bridge a few shells, Lieutenant. As soon as possible.”

Pappalardo was a belligerent man who had learnt much of his soldiering in Russia with the Alpini Division
‘Guilia’

The artillery, resting after its efforts in halting the previous attack, did not welcome another call to arms so soon but set about the task and soon dropped their shells on the bridge and environs.

The Allied commander had no idea whether the shells did good work, but it was enough for him to know that he was hitting back for now.

As the shells passed overhead, Pappalardo and Haines set about planning a more pro-active defence.

Their efforts were to prove in vain as two events made all the difference and condemned Ambrose Force to destruction.

Pappalardo, ever aggressive, got a little creative with his artillery and mortars and, seeing that there was no shortage of ammunition, it seemed wholly reasonable.

The Sextons switched their fire randomly between the different bridges and areas that he and Haines had identified.

At 1434 hrs, after a ten-minute breather, the 25 pounder Sextons started up again and dropped on the crossing point at Unterfederaun.

After two
salvoes, they quickly swapped to the Furnitz road junction, hoping to catch the Soviets unawares.

The second shell to arrive at Unterfederaun took the life of the commander of 115th Rifle Regiment, the assault formation of the 75th Rifle Division. It also took the legs of the divisional com
mander, Colonel Ryzhov.

Two lorry loads of nurses were passing by and they stopped to attend to the wounded and dying.

The last but one shell of the final salvo struck the raised stone block on the north end of the bridge, transforming it into a thousand pieces of life-taking natural shrapnel.

Some of the nurses were literally torn apart by the deluge. All
twenty-seven were hit and none were spared awful injury. Fourteen were killed outright.

Ryzhov
had sustained one further hit. A piece of rock the size of an egg destroyed most of his neck, leaving his partially severed head dangling by a crimson thread.

The screams of the wounded women penetrated even the most resilient of minds and Soviet infantry from the 115th Regiment moved quickly to help. Sometimes they found
someone who could be saved; more often, they just helped to ease suffering or ensured that some young girl did not die alone.

The 75th had spent most of its war in Iran, so such
horrors were new to them.

Their thirst for a reckoning would have a profound effect upon the battle to come.

The lead recon element of the Soviet force had been tremendously unlucky.

It had tucked itself away to observe, taking up a position away from anything that could be credibly targeted by the enemy, only to fall foul of the happenstance of war, as the first Italian mortar
salvo went off target and neatly dropped on and amongst the four vehicles, causing enough death and destruction to knock the unit out of the fight for some time to come.

The lead Soviet battalion commander suddenly lost his
‘eyes’, but felt he had received enough information to order his men into the assault.

His
leading two infantry companies, equipped with lend-lease universal carries, swept into Labientschach and found it undefended.

Covered by this forward force, a small group of SP
’s and infantry made a turn to the north-west with the intention of taking St Georgen and creating a defensive block, should any Allied threat appear from the direction of Semering or beyond.

As this force manoeuvred, Lieutenant Colonel Kozlov,
eponymous commander of Special group that had been sent down the pass, committed part of his armour and two further motorised infantry companies, fairly reasoning that surprise was on his side and he should press Nötsch as soon as possible.

Zhumachenko, the commander of 40th Army, had a schedule to stick to and he was already behind.

He had been forcefully reminded of that by his superior officer, Chuikov, a commander incapable of subtlety in word or deed.

Indeed, the commander of the 1st Alpine Front had previously sent extra units to the 40th, just to ensure the breakthrough went smoothly and it was one of those units, the 7th Tank Corps, which was now amassed against the depleted Ambrose force, spread along approximately eight miles of the Gail River valley.

Zhumachenko had already reinforced the
depleted 28th Rifle Regiment, creating a combat group, adding tanks and motorised infantry to Kozlov’s command and dispatching it through the mountains, intent on falling upon the Allies positions in and around Nötsch.

It was this force that had recently engaged at Labientschach. Even though most of the formation
belonged to the fresh 7th Tanks, command lay with the 75th Division’s regimental commander, Lieutenant Colonel Novak Kozlov.

Under Chuikov
’s direct instructions, Zhumachenko had committed the majority of the 7th Tanks to the initial and subsequent assault phases, expressly to break through and open up routes into Northern Italy.

With Chuikov
’s ‘encouragement’, he had added the entire 62nd Tank Brigade to the renewed assault, with the promise of more support from Front reserves if he was quickly successful.

Zhumachenko was a professional officer who h
ad started as a private, He fully understood the value of the common soldier’s life, hence his attempt to outflank the enemy position with Kozlov’s force.

His finesse might have worked in its own right, but for the direct intervention of Chuikov, for whom time was more important than extra names on a casualty list.

Therefore, as news of Kozlov’s attack reached the leadership of Ambrose Force, the commander of 40th Army unleashed his own version of a tidal wave.

              Katyusha and artillery rounds arrived on target, sweeping the Baker defensive line with death-bringing high explosive and shrapnel.

The tanks were
, for the most part, unscathed, although most sported new silver weals where metal had struck metal.

The
Tommies of the 10th Rifle Brigade suffered badly as dozens of men were virtually obliterated.

Charles Stokes-Herbst watched in horrified fascination as one man was tossed skywards by an explosion and, before he could fall to earth, another
burst seized him and threw him towards the clouds again. Four times the body came down, only to be sent back up again, each time less than it had been before.

The fifth descent
finally permitted the shattered remains to come to rest, unrecognisable and awful, dropping on top of the rear hull of the nearest Lancer Sherman.

The 17th/21st Officer vomited down the side of his turret.

Wiping the residue from his mouth, he dragged his eyes from the vision and back to his front, comprehending the enormity of the assault at the same time as his tank commanders scared voices filled the airwaves with reports.

“
Oh my fucking god!”

As far as Stokes-Herbst could see
there were tanks. To the Lancer it seemed that the T34’s of an entire Soviet tank regiment were bearing down on his position.

I
t would not have been of any comfort for him to know that behind them were more armoured beasts, and that it was actually an entire tank brigade shoehorned into the narrow pass, sixty-two tanks intent on reaching ground well behind his present location.

Over him or through him, it made no difference to them.

He thumbed his mike.

“
All...”

The
17th/21st’s leader’s voice was cut short and those tank commanders exposed in their turrets were startled by the huge explosion that sent pieces of Stokes-Herbst’s Sherman flying in all directions.