by Alan David
Some of the officers turned to go back to their Companies, but Dantine snapped angrily at them.
‘Wait until I give you our destination,’ he rasped. ‘We’re going to march along secondary roads. The transport will follow us after dark, if it can be patched up, and we shall then continue travelling through the night.’
They were given map references, and set out marching. Eckhardt led his Company. The men were silent, the sound of their boots rapping the road. They were constantly gazing at the sky, and whenever aircraft were spotted they deployed quickly and sought the nearest cover. Even so they were attacked several times during the day and lost more men. But by nightfall they had gained twenty miles, and as soon as it was dark they rested and ate food. Within thirty minutes their transport arrived and they climbed aboard thankfully and were soon on the move.
Just before midnight they passed through a town, then several villages. The night was uneasy for the Allied airforce was using heavy bombers, and flashes split the darkness and the sound of exploding bombs reached their ears. Then a terrific explosion rent the night and the leading Battalion truck disintegrated in roaring flames. Almost immediately there was a similar explosion at the rear of the column, and Eckhardt, alighting from his cab, saw fires raging. He glanced skywards, but there was no sound of enemy aircraft and he realized that the French Resistance was active. He ordered the men into cover in all-round defence and awaited developments. A mortar began lobbing bombs along the length of the road. The flash of the weapon could be spotted across the fields to their left. A patrol went out to deal with it, and minutes later the firing ceased.
Dawn came before they could move on, and they remained under cover as the sun rose. Almost immediately there was the roar of aero-engines and fighter-bombers appeared overhead, looking for targets. But the trucks had already been camouflaged and they escaped detection.
Eckhardt went to Battalion HQ and joined the other Company Commanders. Colonel Dantine was seething with anger and kept glaring at the sky.
‘As if it’s not bad enough during the day!’ he raged. ‘Last night the French Resistance blew up the road ahead and behind us, destroying five vehicles and killing or wounding twenty men. We would have covered another fifty miles if we had not been stopped. Now we’ve got to march again.’ He glanced down at the map before him. ‘There’s a village just here.’ He tapped the map. ‘Our patrol last night caught that mortar crew attacking us. They took one man prisoner. He was a Resistance worker, and before he died he admitted that he came from that village. Before we move out I intend making an example of the French. It may save other units behind us. I want the battalion to surround that village. Every man, woman and child will be taken prisoner. This is how I want the Companies to deploy.’
They received their orders and went back to their Companies. Eckhardt called for his platoon commanders and gave orders, and they moved out in the early morning. Birds were singing in the trees as they marched eastwards and then swung north to take up their positions. The village, a large one, was soon surrounded, and then came the order for them to close in. They completely sealed off the huddled cottages, and SS men, fully armed and ready for trouble, went in and forced the inhabitants out into the open, gathering them in the village square.
Eckhardt found himself staring at. some two hundred and forty men, women and children. Dantine confronted the crowd, calling for an interpreter. The women and children were segregated from the men and moved off to be herded into the church, which stood alone at the south end of the village. Guards were placed around it.
Now, Eckhardt,’ Dantine rapped, his gaze not leaving the sixty or so men and youths standing defiantly in a group before them. ‘Get a couple of machine-guns ready. I want these swine shot immediately. Hurry it up. We have to get moving.’
Eckhardt looked into Dantine’s eyes for a moment then turned and rapped orders. Three machine-guns were brought forward from the platoons and quickly set up. The Frenchmen, sensing what was going to happen, tried to make a run for it, but the SS men standing around with ready weapons shot down some of them. The rest halted like frightened sheep.
The machine-guns chattered, sustained their angry note for what seemed an eternity, then shut down, and not one of the men was left standing. Some were writhing in agony, and Eckhardt motioned for Leun to take a section in to finish off the wounded. Rifle shots crackled, then silence and stillness came to the village square. The fallen bodies lay haphazardly in death with blood dribbling among the cobblestones.
‘That will teach the swine in this area that it does not pay to resist us,’ Dantine shouted, his voice echoing. ‘Now the church! Get some petrol and throw it over the walls and doors. Ensure that no one gets out. I want that church burning within two minutes.’
A section of men went back to the camouflaged trucks and returned with jerricans of petrol. A cordon of SS men stood around the church while the fire-detail moved in. Eckhardt stood watching from his vantage point. He could hear children crying and women wailing inside the buildings, and the cries and screams increased as some of the women caught the reek of petrol and realized what was happening.
Dantine stood under a tree to watch the proceedings. A Sergeant-Major approached to ask permission to start the fire and Dantine nodded curtly. A few moments later the church was burning, and flames roared up to engulf the walls. The two doors blazed, effectively sealing the exits, and the stained glass windows began to burst as the fire took hold. Horrific screams came from the interior while the cordon of troops waited. Several children were thrown out of the windows by panic-stricken mothers, but the SS men opened fire, shooting mercilessly. In ten minutes the church was a mass of seething flames and the screaming and crying had stopped. Black smoke poured skywards, attracting the attention of several Allied Jabos, but they flew away when they found nothing to shoot at.
Dantine checked his watch. He turned and issued more orders and SS men hurried to fire the houses of the village. Twenty minutes later they moved out, following their original line of advance, leaving a whole village burning, its inhabitants slaughtered in the name of total war. Eckhardt was unmoved by the incident. It was not his responsibility. That was the extent of his concern. He had merely obeyed orders. Now they continued towards their distant destination.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kurt Eckhardt awoke wearily just before dawn and arose to go to Leutnant Reinhalt’s tank for orders. Artillery-fire was pounding the German front and, as he moved cautiously along the hedgerow where their Troop of Panzers were camouflaged, he heard the distant growl of enemy aircraft. He shook his head and sighed, for the air activity of the Allies was worse than anything that could be thrown at them on the ground. He ducked when a salvo of mortar bombs burst in the next field, but he was well protected by the three-foot bank and the trees that formed the hedge. Even their Panzers had difficulty pushing a way through these hedges.
He reached his Troop Commander’s position and reported. Reinhalt was his normal self this morning; he had recovered from the ordeal of losing yet another tank, and he had a replacement vehicle, a subordinate’s Panzer. But he looked haggard as Kurt reported. He was eating breakfast, holding a cup of coffee in a hand that shook slightly.
‘Eager to get back into action, Sergeant-Major?’ Reinhalt demanded.
‘No, sir!’ Kurt smiled grimly.
‘Well I’m glad you’re around when I get into trouble. I’ve forgotten how many times you’ve helped me in the past. My luck seems to be running out.’
‘I don’t think so, sir.’ Kurt shook his head, afraid to admit that there was an element of luck in their lives, for if he did he accepted the grim fact that his own luck might run out, and the consequences of that were too horrible to contemplate.
‘I’ve just got back from seeing the Major. We’re going to continue the attack we started yesterday. If we can drive a wedge between the British and Canadians then there’s a chance of turning their flanks and rolling them up.’
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nbsp; Kurt nodded, although he did not agree. He was certain that they would be forced on to the defensive. There was so much artillery and air strength against them that it was impossible to advance without incurring heavy losses, and right now they could ill afford to lose more tanks.
‘What’s the plan then, sir?’ he demanded as a cold sensation settled in his stomach. The Regiment was down to forty Panzers, and before the end of this day they would lose more. There was no way they could wage war under such conditions.
‘The Grenadiers who should have attacked yesterday are going in this morning. We’re to follow their advance and punch through any tough opposition they meet. Once we’ve cleared the way for them they’ll push on until they reach the sea. We’ll follow, and if we get within range of the beaches we’ll be able to blast their supplies.’ Leutnant Reinhalt spoke tiredly, and there was a note in his voice which indicated that he did not believe the miracle could occur. But they had to go ahead anyway. ‘Have your crew ready to move out in thirty minutes, Sergeant-Major. I’ll give you last-minute orders over the radio.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Kurt saluted and went back to his vehicle, which had been camouflaged to look like part of the hedge. The night before they had cut down some of the branches in the hedge to give them a field of fire, and, when he reached the Panzer, Kurt went forward to peer through the gaps. He could see the Panzer Grenadiers positioned in the hedge ahead of them preparing to advance.
‘Breakfast is ready, Sergeant-Major,’ Schultze called.
Kurt took his mind off the coming events of the day and went to the side of the vehicle. He squatted and ate the food Schultze had prepared although his stomach seemed to want to repel nourishment. There was a weak feeling in his legs, and he wondered if he was beginning to crack up. It had happened to better tank commanders than him. The incidents of the previous afternoon had taken a fresh toll on his already overburdened nerves. He was beginning to feel sick with dread, and knew that if he did not have a crew to care for he would probably have cracked under the strain long ago. Having to maintain a calm, fatalistic attitude in front of his men seemed to help him conceal his own fears, but it added an extra strain to his responsibilities.
Their supporting artillery began a barrage and they stood on the bank of the hedge among the trees watching the shells bursting ahead. The Panzer Grenadiers were almost ready to move forward. Kurt could see them easing out of their trenches. But already the enemy aircraft were coming over, and they ducked as one machine swooped, firing eight machine-guns into their cover. They were not hit, and moved back to their vehicle. The British began shelling, using twenty-fives, and then their observers spotted movement among the Grenadiers and heavier shelling erupted. Earth flew in all directions as the shells exploded, and they were right on target. Mortar bombs burst with gouts of black smoke as shrapnel was flung through the air like lethal rain.
The Grenadiers began their advance, and immediately there was a rapid increase in small-arms fire. They could hear machine-guns hammering. Tracers curved through the air. Smoke arose and drifted, and Kurt, swinging his glasses, saw shells bursting among grazing cattle, hurling the beasts into the air and dismembering them.
Then they received orders to advance, and there was an increase in engine noise as Schultze put the Panzer at the bank. They tilted alarmingly and clambered up the steep incline, crashing through the trees on the top then lumbering down the far side. As soon as they moved out into the open enemy shells began falling around them. They were high-explosive, and only a direct hit would do any serious damage to them. But Kurt realized that the enemy would call up the fighter-bombers, and when they arrived with their bombs and rockets it would be a different matter.
They went on through the positions that had been held by the Grenadiers during the night and continued across the field beyond. Kurt saw dead Germans lying on the ground and wondered what Niehaus would make of them. It was something else a soldier had to get used to. He saw a wounded Grenadier suddenly rise up and try to drag himself out of their way. Schultze made no effort to avoid the man, and Kurt, gritting his teeth, heard Niehaus yell out in horror. They struck the soldier and crushed him into the soft earth, and Kurt, glancing back, saw that the man had been flattened by their twenty-five tons. He recalled his own horror in Poland when they had first gone into action and run over bodies. He knew how Niehaus must be feeling. But there was nothing they could do about anyone when they were on the move. They had other things to think about.
Shells came crashing down in a ferocious barrage, and Kurt realized artillery observers were forward with the enemy troops. Fountains of earth shot skywards and blast pushed at them as they continued. They came upon the first of the enemy positions and saw British and German casualties lying around. The Grenadiers had succeeded in smashing through the first line of defence, and Kurt knew it was now up to the Panzers to push forward and shatter any strong opposition too heavy for the infantry. That meant taking on Shermans and anti-tank guns.
It was impossible to spot the artillery for the guns were well back, but their shells landed with amazing accuracy. Peering ahead, Kurt could see explosions devastating the advancing Grenadiers. Men were being blown to pieces in the hellish vortexes.
Then Kurt spotted enemy armour and a chill sensation gripped his bowels. He clenched his teeth and spoke through them as he gave a fire order to Weilen. The turret began to traverse and the breech clanged as Hohner loaded with armour piercing. But Kurt’s attention was temporarily distracted by a tremendous explosion on his right, and when he glanced in that direction he saw that the Panzer on his flank had gone up on a mine. The vehicle was obscured by a large cloud of smoke. He watched as it cleared away, heaving a long sigh of relief when he was able to spot the crew baling out and running for cover. They were almost among their forward troops now, and ahead of them were the British.
An armour-piercing shell passed them with a whistling crack that made Kurt’s ears ring, and he returned his attention to the battle, cursing himself for letting his concentration slip.
For God’s sake, Weilen!’ he rapped harshly. ‘What the hell are you waiting for? You can see him, can’t you? Have I got to come down there and fire the bloody gun for you?’
The tail-end of his complaint was obliterated by the crack of their 75mm, and smoke obscured his vision for a moment. He slitted his eyes as he watched the enemy tank, letting his breath escape in a short, gusting sigh when he saw flame and smoke shoot up from the vehicle. Thank God the Allies were lagging behind the Germans with their tank design and armament, he thought. If those Shermans were properly gunned the Panzers would soon be written off. He remembered how it had been on the Russian front against the T-34, and drew a rasping breath into his lungs as Hohner reloaded. There were half a dozen Shermans and they were coming forward resolutely, nosing over the bank in front in a valiant attempt to get into range and action.
‘Hit them now, for Christ’s sake!’ he snapped, for the nearest Sherman was perched on the top of the bank in front, revealing its belly. Hohner sweated as he worked, and Weilen fired quickly. The 75mm armour-piercing shell struck the enemy underneath and tore through, crashing on to rip into the engine in the rear of the vehicle. At point-blank range the 75mm could pass through both sides of a tank almost without blunting its nose. Smoke and flame erupted as fuel was spilled from shattered tanks, and Kurt saw crew members diving out of the stricken vehicle.
Niehaus operated their machine-gun and Kurt could see bullets flailing the running figures of the enemy tank crew. He mentally praised Niehaus. The youngster was acting like a veteran.
The other Shermans were halting on the far side of the bank, and began to fire from that position, aware that they were placing themselves at a disadvantage by trying to crash through. Their guns blasted and Kurt was flung to his knees by a shockwave as they were struck a glancing blow. Blackness slipped before his eyes for a moment and the sounds of battle faded. He thought he was going to lose consciousness and wondered if he
had been hit, but slowly the battle resumed its loud ferocity.
Weilen fired and scored a hit on a Sherman’s turret. Kurt saw the entire turret and gun fly up into the air and sail almost lazily in an arc before crashing back to the ground. Raging flames leapt up out of the ragged hole that was left in the top of the tank, and thick black smoke broiled angrily There were no survivors from the hit, and Kurt wiped sweat from his face as they continued towards the hedge. But at that moment enemy air support came over and the scene was transformed immediately.
Cannon-fire kicked up rapid lines of dirt as it zipped into the ground. Kurt ducked when they were struck by at least half a dozen shots, and the Panzer sounded like a dustbin being struck with a sledge-hammer.
‘Keep her moving, Schultze,’ he yelled. ‘Into the hedge.’
The fact that the Shermans were on the other side did not matter. They had to get out of the way of the fighter-bombers! It was the only thought in Kurt’s mind. Weilen kept firing, for there were targets in front of them, and Hohner, unable to see anything but hearing all the awful noises of battle, worked like an automaton, loading the gun after each recoil. The interior of the vehicle became thick with choking fumes and they all sweated.
A Sherman broke through the hedge to their left and halted, its gun swinging. It was only one hundred feet away and Kurt called urgently to Weilen, who had not seen the danger. The enemy’s turret was turning, but Kurt thought theirs was moving faster, and gritted his teeth, ducking as machine-gun fire raked them. Weilen brought the gun to bear and fired, the Mark IV tremoring as the speeding shell spewed from their muzzle. Kurt saw its strike at the bottom of the enemy turret where it joined the body of the tank, and such was the range that the turret was torn away. He saw a body flying through the air out of the Sherman and realized that it belonged to the enemy tank commander.
