by Colin Gee
Bile and blood passed Knocke’s lips.
The shouts of alarm summoned the security detail, whose commander immediately dispatched four men in search of medical assistance.
Bittrich wobbled on his feet, as his recent illness declared itself again, and was assisted to a chair to await the medics’ arrival
For a sometime to come, the collective eye was off the ball.
1554 hrs, Monday, 24th June 1946, Knickhagen, Germany.
The Legion units were backing up as they tried to flood down Route 3233, and some enterprising commanders sought to bring their men to the field by alternate routes, ones outside their orders but that offered the promise of speed of advance.
The commander of the 1er Légion Étrangère Batallione de Chars Lourds informed headquarters of his intent by radio, but the message was one of those that was somehow lost in the kerfuffle of Knocke’s collapse.
The heavy tanks of the 1er BCL drove forward, complete with their infantry escort company, and leading the 4e Légion Étrangère Roquette Anti-char Équipe, taking the track that would link up with the minor Route 40, allowing the entire force to move through the valley and on towards the river plain and the main road north.
Backed up behind them were the amphibious transports of the 1er Bataillon Amphibie Spéciale, miles away from where they were supposed to be.
95th Rifle Division had had a bad war, and, despite receiving reinforcements at the end of the cold winter, the formation was a division in name only.
None the less, it had still performed well against the advancing Allies soldiers, so well that the Third Army commander had, uncharacteristically, pulled it out of the line for some rest in a quieter area… on the Fulda.
Fig # 193 – Soviet Order of Battle – Knickhagen on the Fulda River, 24th June 1946.
At least, it had been quiet until the legionnaires of Normandie arrived.
The men of the 90th Rifle Regiment were presently being driven from the field to the north of Knickhagen.
Part of the 161st Rifle Regiment, the most savaged of the division’s main combat units, was fleeing northwards in front of the advancing 7th RdM, apparently aware that their only route to safety lay in Wilhelmshausen.
However, part of that same unit, Combat Group Stalia, was still in position within Knickhagen and its commander, the eponymous Major Stalia, had very specific orders on two matters; namely holding his position at all costs, and his responsibility towards the special unit under his protection.
In essence, the attached ATPAU, Army Tank Prototype Assessment Unit, field tested new vehicle designs under combat conditions, a risky but worthwhile venture, at least to Soviet eyes.
However, its presence in Knickhagen was an error, and the unit found itself in dangerous surroundings, too far forward and in danger of being cut off.
None the less, the experimental weapons were there to fight and prove themselves, so preparations were made to do just that.
Under no circumstances were the ATPAU vehicles to fall into enemy hands, something that Stalia understood both from his colonel, who had informed him his life hung on successfully discharging that order, and from the straight-forward statements by one of the heavy tanks’ commanders, a no-nonsense senior NCO called Kon.
His particular vehicle was an IS-IV with a difference, upgunned to deal with the new Allied tanks that were expected to make an appearance in the summer of ’46.
With a huge 130mm main gun, new gearbox, upgraded suspension, and twin all-new engines, the IS-IVm46/B was virtually a new tank, and, as such, needed a field test with the specialists in the ATPAU.
There were two of these huge beasts, both manned by experienced Soviet tankers.
Alongside them was the experimental SPAA troop, consisting of two of the extremely new BTR-152, known as the ZSU-12-4, based on the latest transport development, the Zis-151 truck, and two ZSU-12-6, a recycled KV or IS-II tank hull, mounting the all-new four and six barrel DShKM heavy machine-gun mounts respectively, something hastily thrown together to help counter the ever-present ground attack aircraft on the modern battlefield.
The approach of the Legion armoured spearhead committed the IS-IVs to closer combat than Kon would have liked, but they were there and could not shirk the task, so the two behemoths waited in hull down positions, ready for the moment to strike.
The battlegroup paused north of the Krummbach Bridge whilst an evaluation was made.
The smaller bridge that would have taken the group straight across the Osterbach and onto Route 40 was considered hardly suitable for the lighter vehicles, and most certainly incapable of carrying the Tiger IIs of 1er BCL.
A small composite unit from the 1er Régiment Étranger de Cavalerie led the way, detached purely to satisfy the heavy tank unit’s reconnaissance needs.
Part of that composite took the southern route, intending to move parallel to the main force, but on the eastern bank of the Krummbach.
The rest went ahead of the main body.
The leading Camerone vehicle, a recently acquired and quite battered SDKFZ 251/D half-track, still sporting the partially obscured insignia of the panzerjager abteilung of 2nd Panzer Division, turned the corner, stopped, and disgorged its squad of grenadiers.
The soldiers moved apart and swept down the hedgerows, making for the nearest houses, all the time chivied by their unit commander, who was, in turn, chivvied by Hubert Hertz, the commander of the Heavy Tank unit.
Fig # 194 - Action in Knickhagen, Germany.
Time.
On the battlefield, time can be as much of a killer as a champion, the absence of it, or the urgency in trying to gain it, often leading to disaster.
In the case of the Legion units traversing Knickhagen, the latter case held sway, and the imperatives of time meant that things were not as they should be, were not done as they should have been done, or were overlooked.
A kubelwagen took up the point position on the junction of Sudholzstrasse and Vor dem Wiedehagen, closely supported by a jeep with a .50cal mounted.
An Opel Blitz truck disgorged more men, who swept deeper into the village, hastily ensuring that no Soviet heroes lay in wait with a panzerfaust or Molotov cocktail.
The axis of advance was down Sudholzstrasse, heading to secure the bridge at the junction of Osterbachstrasse.
In a building adjacent to the kubelwagen, soldiers prepared to defend the stairs. Stalia’s men held their breath as the Legionnaires swept through the ground floor, sparing only a cursory look up the half burned dog-legged staircase.
A terse radio message interrupted the search and the leader, a new NCO, drove his men on, eager to please his unit commander, who had demonstrated confidence in him with the recent promotion.
The error was repeated elsewhere.
In the butcher’s shop, a vicious firefight broke out, as a group of Legionnaires found some enemy hidden away in an attic room.
The exchange was brief, and the Soviet soldiers were killed to a man, grenades doing most of the grisly work, as well as setting fire to the old shop.
The small fight was repeated in a few other places, and with the same result.
Anxious to get the tank officer off his back, Felix Bach pushed his recon troopers harder, transferring the pressure from above to his men up front.
The men obliged, and hurried through their duties, quickly reporting the road and main bridge clear.
“Panzer marsch!”
Hertz, buoyed by the quick work up front, whirled his arms at his subordinate tank commanders, speaking into his intercom for the benefit of his crew.
The King Tiger leapt forward as the driver let the clutch out too quickly.
Hertz was thrown forward, but managed to steady himself, although he did smack his nose with his own hand, causing his left nostril to spout blood and his eyes to water.
His Porsche King Tiger preceded the three Henschel versions in line, the column led off by the Staghound armoured car.
Close behind the heavy t
anks came infantry support in lorries, and between the two an M-16 moved forwards, its crew scanning the skies in case the Red Air Force made an unexpected appearance.
The 4e RACE was next in line, with the rear brought up by a platoon from the infantry element.
The two Tiger Is had moved off the road and remained north of the Osterbach whilst an oil leak was being dealt with on one of the vehicles.
Both Tiger crews were taken by surprise at the quickness of the recon unit’s work, and worked fast to try and tack themselves onto the rear of the column, as soon as the fault had been found and fixed.
Stalia waited and watched, both concerned and buoyed by the sound of approaching heavy tanks.
His troops had a motley assortment of weapons at their disposal, from a PTRD anti-tank rifle, through a pair of US bazookas, three panzerfausts, and a few crates of Molotov cocktails. The fire discipline of his hidden troops was superb, and the leading echelons moved past unhindered.
Hertz’s tank, leading when it should have been nowhere near the front of the column, moved up to and past Stalia’s concealed position, the familiar shape of the deadly tank bringing back more than one awful memory for the troops of 161st Rifle Regiment.
The Staghound moved over the bridge and positioned itself on the junction of Route 40 and Burgstrasse.
Behind it, the Porsche Tiger II moved onto the bridge.
Hertz’s eyes still ran with moisture, his stinging nose provoking the reaction.
Perhaps, had he been able to see clearly, then the extra height he enjoyed from being in the huge tank’s cupola might have made a difference, and he might have seen something deadly, and what came to pass might have started a different way.
But he couldn’t, and he didn’t, so did not see the cable that everyone had missed.
Stalia clapped his hand on the shoulder of the NCO waiting, the tension of the moment causing the Corporal to yelp with surprise, even though he still managed to twist the handle on the captured German Glühzündapparat 37 detonator, sending an electrical pulse down the cable to the explosives underneath the Osterbach Bridge.
Underneath Hertz’s tank, the demolition charge of two hundred kilos of US military explosive did just what explosive is supposed to do, propelling energy waves in all directions, many of them upwards.
The bridge rose, taking the seventy-seven ton tank with it, reaching an impressive height before gravity resumed control, returning the lump of metal to ground.
The tank slammed into the riverbank, nearside first, and rolled onto its top, messily flattening the upper portion of the insensible Hertz, who had somehow remained within the cupola.
Whilst not as demonstrably deceased as Hertz, the rest of the Tiger’s crew were equally dead, slain by concussion and hard impacts with the unyielding metal of the tank’s interior.
The destruction of the bridge was the signal for mayhem to commence, and all along the route of advance, Soviet troopers revealed themselves, raining down death and destruction on the stalled Legion column.
Two of the other King Tigers took numerous hits and both added smoke and flame to the confusion, some of the escaping crewmen screaming as fire took hold on their clothing.
The surviving King Tiger shrugged off Molotovs and a panzerfaust hit, and pushed off the main road, meting out fire and destruction in the direction of anything that looked like a threat.
All along Osterbachstrasse, legionnaires were dying, as hidden pockets of resistance sprouted bullets and grenades.
But the ex-SS troopers reacted swiftly, and mounted assaults on the known and suspected positions, quickly reducing half of the resistance at the end of the bayonet or with a sharpened entrenching tool.
The physically weakened Russians stood little chance in a battle of strength, and very few of the Legion’s soldiers died in the swift hand-to-hand combats that ensued.
Surprisingly, some Soviet soldiers raised their hands, seeking life over sacrifice and, perhaps more surprisingly, the Legion soldiers, for the most part, accepted their surrender.
Some ex-SS soldiers, most often those with dead or wounded comrades lying around their feet, chose a quicker and more vengeful resolution.
At the rear of the column, the infantry platoon deployed and swept forward, supporting the aggressive moves of the trapped main force and the recon elements that had survived the ambush.
The soldiers of the 4e RACE, mainly unaffected by the attack, secured their own area and, under orders, waited for further developments.
The commander of the 1er BAS decided to remain where he was, set his unit for all round defence, and sent a messenger forward to establish what was going on, all as he struggled with finding his whereabouts on the map.
Casualties dictated that the Battle Group’s command had switched to the officer commanding the Second Company of 3e/1er RDM.
Captain Durand had grown in stature since the early days of the Legion Corps, when he had distinguished himself during the relief of Stuttgart, and had risen immediately to the challenges of his enhanced duties. It was he who was responsible for ordering the assaults and movements that saved the small battlegroup, and ensured victory in the brief but intense battle for Knickhagen.
The infantry of 3e/1er RDM overcame Stalia’s men in less than thirty minutes, enabling Durand to report Camerone’s right flank clear up to and including Knickhagen.
Rolf Uhlmann, temporarily thrust into the spotlight as Camerone’s senior surviving officer, pushed the rest of the division hard towards Wilhelmshausen and the bridge they needed to hold.
Things started to happen and, unusually for the Legion Corps, they started to go wrong.
The lead elements of the 7e RDM ran into more mines in unusual numbers as they moved north of Fuldatel, approaching their crossing point on the Osterbach.
Part of the way was marked by dead Soviet soldiers, men felled by their own mines in their haste to escape.
Uhlmann, aware that the 7e and its supporting elements would, at some time, move across his front, did not receive the report of their delay, neither did the divisional headquarters relay it back to him, as commander on the ground.
The 1er Bataillon Amphibie Spéciale came under fire from mortars across the river, causing the unit to scatter and lose cohesion.
Camerone’s artillery were tasked with plastering the area east of the Fulda River, keeping enemy reinforcements away from Wilhelmshausen and its vital bridge, denying their support to the under-pressure 1er BAS, the stalled 7e RDM, or the elements of Camerone advancing north of the Fulda.
Uhlmann ordered the 1er BAS to reform and prepare to force the Fulda east of Knickhagen.
As a stopgap measure, Uhlmann ordered the remaining heavy tanks of the 1er BCL to position themselves on the two hundred metre line, north of Knickhagen, and do what they could to support an assault crossing, should the commander of 1er BAS be able to mount one.
Acting both with and without orders, 4e RACE followed the heavy tank unit onto the height.
4e’s orders had been to accompany the tanks, so, in that regard, they were correct to move off in pursuit.
However, those orders had been issued under different circumstances, and divisional staff officers assumed that the anti-tank unit remained at Knickhagen, and marked their maps accordingly.
The men of 1er BCL and 4e RACE were also unaware that the 7e RDM had been stopped dead by mines to their southwest, their last orders simply stressing to avoid friendly fire against units coming up from Fuldatel.
In the defence of the staff personnel and leadership involved, Wilhelmshausen had started to develop into a major engagement, as considerable Soviet forces were well dug in on the outskirts and inside of the small town, calling more and more of Camerone’s limited assets into the fight.
Elements of the division, mainly based around the bulk of the 3e/1er RDM, sought out the tracks and paths on the southern slopes of Height 346, intent on crossing the Mühlbach to the north of Wilhelmshausen, to try and turn the r
ight flank of the solid enemy resistance.
They, in turn, ran into more trouble, as more mines and well-sited defensive positions chewed up the advancing legionnaires until they were down to a yard-by-yard slugfest.
To the north, Alma had similar problems on the road to Reinhardshagen, where the main approach ran through a pass heavy with Soviet defenders intent on staying put.
The exchange and receipt of information almost collapsed under the strain, and many staff officers, normally proficient and professional, underachieved in their roles.
With devastating results.
Kon had waited on the reports from the group he had sent to check on Knickhagen.
They reported that the enemy force had come to a halt and was making no identifiable efforts to move on.
With an enemy formation halted and in the open in front of him, Kon had resisted the temptation to go at it hammer and tongs, remembering the responsibility the ATPAU tanks represented, although the commanding Major had been all for an immediate assault.
With the enemy force in Knickhagen stalled, an assault on the units to his front was possible.
Leaving two of the SPAA vehicles with the security element to watch their rear, safe in the woods in which they had been concealed, Kon led the two IS-IV variants into the attack, flanked by the deadly ZSU-12-6s.
Each IS had a grape of infantry on board, purely to watch out for any infantryman with an eye for glory and an anti-tank weapon in his hand.
1644 hrs, Monday, 24th June 1946, open ground, north of Fuldatal, Germany.
Fig # 195 – Battle at Knickhagen – Soviet counter-attack.
The 1er BAS had moved to the river line but had yet to cross, as building Soviet fire stopped them dead.
