by Alan David
The sun was hot upon Kurt’s shoulders as he peered forward, looking for the first signs of the enemy. His nerves were stretched to breaking point. He had worked himself up to the pitch necessary for going into action. His eyes were slitted, his hands clenched as he followed the sunken road that led towards the coast and the British. He was hardly able to see through the thick hedges screening them, and the hellish noises of battle were pounding ceaselessly. He experienced a sense of remoteness and glanced down into the turret, where he could see Hohner waiting to feed shells to their 75mm.
Leutnant Reinhalt’s tank was leading them and, although he could not see them, other tanks were out on either flank, all ready for action. In the background he could hear Niehaus’s voice as the youngster talked into the radio, acknowledging orders. Kurt hoped that this first action for Niehaus would go off all right. He opened his mouth, for he suddenly discovered that he was clenching his teeth so tightly that his jaw ached. He should never have become a tankman. He did not have that special kind of courage one needed to sit in a steel monster every day. Yet he had been doing the job since Poland in ‘39 and he was still here, having covered countless hundreds of miles and fighting in endless battles.
He peered ahead, aware that nothing but death and destruction lay in that direction. Shell-fire seemed to increase and he crouched a little as blast pushed at him. He heard the sound of shrapnel striking against the hull. But what frightened him more than high explosive was the thought of an armour-piercing shell striking the vehicle. He had lost several tanks in his time, and each incident had been an unreal experience. It was only afterwards that one realized just how close to death one had been, and that was when fear commenced.
The Allies did not have many armoured vehicles ashore yet, he knew, and they were supposed to engage any on sight. But there was no sign of the enemy in any shape or form. Only the shells kept falling and bursting, and he blinked rapidly as heat welled up from the interior of the Panzer and stung his eyes.
Leutnant Reinhalt suddenly sent his vehicle skidding sideways to career over the high bank on the left-hand side of the road. Kurt saw a flash ahead of the Leutnant’s vehicle, and the next instant an anti-tank shell hammered against the rear corner of Reinhalt’s Panzer and ricocheted. There was a crackling sound as it blasted on past Kurt’s vehicle, and already he was calling to Weilen, ordering the man to shoot at the British six-pounder positioned in the centre of the sunken road.
Weilen was already in action, and Kurt clenched his teeth as the 75mm blasted, throwing out a searing yellow flash and a volume of smoke. The high explosive shell slashed from the high velocity muzzle and exploded right beside the enemy gun. Kurt had a glimpse of several bodies being flung into the air and torn to pieces by the vortex of the explosion.
‘Give them another one for luck, Weilen,’ Kurt called, unaware that he had spoken. It was training and discipline that kept him operating coolly in the heat of battle when every instinct was to turn and run and hide.
Hohner had jerked open the breech and let the spent casing fall into the well of the tank. There were heavy metallic sounds as he slammed home another round and closed the breech. The gun fired again, and Kurt saw the strike of the shot and the resultant explosion which hurled the heavy gun through the hedge and into the field where Reinhalt’s tank had gone. At the same instant a British light machine-gun opened fire and Kurt’s turret was lashed by flailing bullets. He ducked as he yelled for the scared Niehaus to get their machine-gun into action. Niehaus, seated in the front of the tank beside the driver, pressed his trigger and sent a stream of lead slashing through the foliage ahead, aiming for the smoke coming from the enemy gun. Kurt raised up slightly to observe, and mentally complimented the youngster. If he lived long enough, Niehaus would become a valuable addition to the crew.
A British PIAT anti-tank weapon opened fire from almost point-blank range, and Kurt was hurled back in the turret by the crashing blast of the exploding two-pound bomb. But it had not struck them cleanly and most of the blast tore across the curve of the turret. Kurt felt as if he had been struck over the head with a sixteen-pound sledge-hammer. His ears sang and his senses whirled. Dimly he was aware of the vehicle spinning on its tracks and making for the bank on the right. Reinhalt had gone in the opposite direction. They hit the bank and reared up like a prehistoric monster. The trees embedded in the bank splintered under their weight and they lurched forward to crash through the hedge and blunder blindly into the field on their flank.
There was an immediate response from the enemy. Small-arms fire cut at them, forcing Kurt to duck into the turret and close the hatch. Now Niehaus was using his MG like a veteran, and Kurt peered through his periscope and saw British troops moving around, disturbed by their appearance. Mortar bombs blasted about them, hurling up clouds of black smoke and spraying them with shrapnel. But Kurt was aware that the bombs could not harm them and ordered Niehaus to use his MG on all visible targets.
The 75 blasted again and Kurt saw a group of British soldiers vanish in a roar of fire. On his right two more Panzers were advancing, and behind them, Kurt hoped, were the Grenadiers who were supposed to contest this ground with the British and hurl the invaders back into the sea.
Kurt opened the hatch again and eased up cautiously. They were being shelled by all manner of weapons, but seemingly there were no anti-tank guns. He saw German soldiers advancing from the rear when he risked a quick glance back over his shoulder.
‘Sherman!’ Weilen yelled, and Kurt caught a glimpse of an ominous shape to their left. He saw several other enemy tanks, and snapped at Hohner.
‘Armour piercing, quickly.’
Hohner was already reloading the AP. They were a well-trained experienced crew, and already the muzzle of the long-barrelled 75mm was swinging on target. One of the other Panzers was already engaging the Shermans, and Kurt gritted his teeth when the nearest enemy went up in a cloud of black smoke and licking red flames. Weilen, who had been aiming at the Sherman, quickly switched targets, and when he fired they scored a hit upon a second Sherman. There was no apparent damage and Kurt waited in that timeless period which always overtook them when Hohmer was reloading. In reality it lasted only seconds, but to Kurt’s distended nerves it seemed like half a lifetime.
Niehaus spoke excitedly over the intercom, reporting that Leutnant Reinhalt’s Panzer had been hit and was burning. The crew were out and wanted covering fire while they moved. Kurt ordered Schultze to go back to the sunken road, and there was a gateway almost level with them. Schultze sent the twenty-six ton tank into the gateway and then whirled them around as they reached the road. They were almost upon the smoking area where their first shells had struck the anti-tank weapon, and Kurt glanced along the road, seeing British soldiers running back into cover. They crashed across the road and blasted through the opposite hedge, hurled around like peas in a pod as they hit the bank, surmounted it, and lumbered down in the field beyond.
Kurt saw Reinhalt’s Panzer immediately. It was burning fiercely, throwing off thick black smoke. Even as he looked at it there was a fierce explosion inside and the turret was sent flying through the air. It crashed down many yards away while the crimson fire that was gutting the vehicle rose up even more fiercely.
There were two Shermans to their right, showing their flanks to Kurt’s vehicle as they moved from left to right to attack the Panzers in the field behind them. Weilen fired as soon as he was on target and the nearest Sherman exploded with a thunderous roar. Smoke shot out of the turret. Kurt saw the tank commander being hurled many yards into the air, his body turning over and over as it described a high arc before falling back to earth. Again time seemed to stand still as Hohmer reloaded, and the second Sherman was beginning to swing to face them.
‘Fire, for Christ’s sake!’ Kurt snapped, although he could tell by the sounds that Hohner had not yet finished reloading. A few seconds passed and he could see the muzzle of the Sherman’s gun swinging to cover them. Then Weilen fired and t
heir shot struck the Sherman on the glacis plate. There was a sheet of flame but the enemy’s gun continued to nose towards them. Hohner went through the motions of reloading, his mind almost blank, his thoughts held in abeyance. He could not see what was going on outside their vehicle and he did not want to know. He had every confidence in Kurt, certain that their commander would see them through.
Kurt gritted his teeth. He heard the breech close, and then the Panzer jerked under the whiplash power of the 75mm firing. He saw the shot strike the turret of the Sherman and tear a great hole in it. They were only two hundred yards from the vehicle and their 75mm was capable of stopping a Sherman at a thousand yards. The flat trajectory of their shots made it almost impossible for Weilen to miss any target.
Machine-gun fire was coming at them like heavy rain, and Kurt was crouching low, his hands gripping the edge of the turret. He saw no other enemy armour and directed their fire upon the British infantry, who were lying in positions just ahead. But the next instant heavy shell-fire descended upon them, and Kurt gave the order to move out. He looked around as Schultze took them into the cover of a tall hedge, shaking his head when he saw three Panzers burning fiercely. His hands were trembling, and he licked his lips, his breath rasping in his throat. The stink of high explosive was everywhere, and he was thirsty.
Major Zimmermann spoke over the radio, ordering them to pull back, and Kurt looked for Reinhalt’s crew as Schultze moved their heavy monster into the hedge behind them. They crashed over it, almost overturning in the process, then halted, their gun sticking through the hedge to cover the other vehicles still withdrawing. German assault troops were down in cover in the hedgerow, and their tank had almost crushed some of them.
Reinhalt appeared at the side of the Panzer and Kurt sprang out of the turret and faced his superior. Both their faces were blackened, and Reinhalt had a large bruise on his forehead. He was pale and tense.
‘That was close, Sergeant-Major,’ Reinhalt observed. ‘But you did some good work out there. I walked into one before we had the chance to do anything. It was sheer bad luck.’
Kurt wondered where luck ended and good fighting took over, but he said nothing. He peered around, aware that the German troops were not going to advance any further. They had not even made contact with the British.
‘What happens now, sir?’ he demanded.
‘I’ll talk to the Major on your radio,’ Reinhalt responded wearily, and went to the side hatch near where Niehaus was seated inside the tank. He rapped on the hatch and Niehaus opened to him. Kurt sighed heavily and wiped sweat from his face. It had been their first time in action for several weeks, and the first time was always rough. He wondered how Niehaus was feeling, and could see the youngster’s face at the hatch. Apart from looking tense and pale, the new radio operator seemed to be enjoying himself.
Reinhalt came back to where Kurt was standing. The German troops were digging in now, and Kurt realized that, for some reason, the attack had been called off. It happened all the time, although he thought that they had been getting the better of the British. They had certainly smashed up more Shermans than they had lost Panzers.
‘There’s some confusion further back,’ Reinhalt said. ‘Enemy air attacks have disrupted the assault. It’s been called off. We have to go back. We’ll ride with you, Sergeant-Major.’
Kurt nodded and climbed back into his turret. He peered through the hedge as they began to move back and saw British soldiers around the burning Shermans.
‘Niehaus, see the enemy over there,’ he rapped. ‘Give them a few bursts to make them get down.’
Niehaus nodded and began firing short bursts. Kurt, using his glasses, saw the enemy soldiers falling like autumn leaves. He was pleased with Niehaus’s aiming. The new radio operator cleared the area quickly. Kurt smiled grimly. The action would give the youngster confidence, and it would make a man out of a green recruit.
None of Reinhalt’s crew had been hurt and they clung to the back of Kurt’s vehicle as it withdrew. When they reached their Company area, Kurt was directed under cover and ordered Schultze to switch off the engine. They had only just finished camouflaging the vehicle when several fighter-bombers zoomed over very low, obviously looking for them. They remained motionless, scarcely daring to breathe. Kurt could see the imprints of their broad tracks upon the ground and wondered why the enemy airmen did not spot them. But the aircraft flew around for several minutes before moving away from their immediate area. Other targets attracted them and the danger was averted.
‘Get your Panzer ready for more action,’ Reinhalt said. ‘I’ll go and check with the Major to see what’s due to happen. Thanks again, Sergeant-Major. You pulled us out of a sticky spot.’
Kurt smiled and shook his head. His crew was emerging from the tank. Hohner cursed and flung himself down on the grass. They were on the edge of a large wood and the vehicle had been backed in under the trees. Schultze was gasping for breath when he appeared, and uncorked a water bottle and took a long pull at it before slamming home the cork with the heel of his hand and tossing it to Kurt.
‘The best three-star Cognac,’ he said, and Kurt thanked him, taking a long swig before passing the bottle to Hohmer. Niehaus appeared, still pale, but there was a brightness in his eyes which warned Kurt that he was elated, exhilarated by the action they had just experienced.
‘Well?’ Kurt demanded. ‘How did you like your first taste of action?’
‘Wonderful!’ Niehaus nodded. ‘It was so exciting! When I used the machine-gun I could see those Tommies falling down. I didn’t think I was hitting them. It was all so easy.’
‘It is easy if your tank isn’t one of those getting it,’ Hohner rasped, almost emptying Schultze’s bottle of Cognac.
‘I heard bullets striking the hull,’ Niehaus protested. ‘They can’t get much closer than that.’
‘Ask the Sergeant-Major!’ Weilen cut in. ‘While you were safe behind the hull he was standing up in the turret, looking out for us.’
Niehaus looked at Kurt, who nodded slowly. The youngest nodded abstractedly, still elated by his experience.
‘So long as you do your duty then everything will be all right,’ Kurt told him. ‘Remember that. Always do your duty.’
‘Yes, Sergeant-Major.’ Niehaus wiped sweat from his face. ‘When are we going back in again?’
‘Not today, I hope,’ said Schultze good-naturedly. He turned and walked behind the tank to urinate.
Heat was rising like a mist from the rear of the tank, and Kurt let his shoulders slump a little as he tried to assimilate all the latest experiences that had befallen them. Each detail flitted through his mind, and now fear struck him like delayed shock. His hands trembled as he turned to check if fresh ammunition and fuel were coming forward.
Hohner climbed into the tank and began to throw out the empty shell cases. Kurt told Niehaus to put them under cover. He hated the waiting around which was a part of every soldier’s life in action. It was the waiting that clawed at nerves and threatened to betray a man to his fears.
‘Is it always like that in action, Sergeant-Major?’ Niehaus demanded.
‘I can’t guarantee that we’ll always come out of it unscathed, but you had a fair example of what action inside a tank is like,’ Kurt retorted.
Niehaus digested that information, and Kurt could almost see his mind working. The experience had not been bad for the youngster, and that was all to the good, Kurt knew. They needed an operator they could trust, someone who would not freeze at a crucial moment, and the man Niehaus had replaced in their crew had been one of the best.
Leutnant Reinhalt returned, dragging his feet. He looked as if he had not slept in a week, and the fingers of his right hand were trembling convulsively. Kurt saw the motion and realized that Reinhalt was suffering like the rest of them. They had all seen too much action, and did not get enough rest. It told upon a man’s nerves in small ways, acting insidiously until it built up out of all proportion. Then it showed and
betrayed a man, destroying him. No allowances were made for someone who permitted his nerves to get the better of him. They were fighting soldiers and had to do their duty to the extent of dying, of sacrificing themselves for the greater glory of Germany and their Führer.
Kurt dragged himself from his thoughts and looked at his superior. Reinhalt was trying to light a cigarette but could not keep his hands steady. Finally he threw away the cigarette and spoke to Kurt out of a corner of his mouth, making an effort to keep his lips steady. It was obvious that this latest incident in which he had yet again lost his Panzer had taken a heavy toll of his nerve.
‘The Major says we are to get ready to move forward again, Sergeant-Major. If the infantry make another attack we shall have to support them. But we’re to wait here for fresh orders. No one is to venture out into the open. We don’t want to attract those damned Jabos! They’re playing up hell with the whole Division.’
Kurt nodded. He was feeling steadier now, but his hands still shook when he held them up.
‘We’ll wait under cover for orders, sir,’ he promised.
A truck approached along the tree line and they replenished their supply of ammunition. Schultze opened up the engine covers and checked the level of fuel.
‘We’ll need topping up before we can move off again, sir,’ he reported, and Kurt nodded.
‘Make some coffee, Schultze,’ he ordered, and the driver nodded.
They lounged around until the petrol bowser appeared, and there were several tense minutes while they were refuelled. Kurt ordered everyone to keep a watch for enemy planes, and there was silence until the petrol truck had gone on its way.
