by Gee, Colin
The losses inflicted upon the Soviet Army during the ten days of the war had been worse than projected, but unusually heavy on certain key specialists, not the least of which were the highly skilled bridging engineers, despite orders to limit the dangers to these key personnel.
The request Zhukov intended to submit to the GKO was a plea to permit all qualified bridging troops to return to the ranks as soon as possible. A reasonable idea to overcome the present worrying shortage of trained engineers.
Nearly five million Soviet soldiers had fallen into captivity during World War Two, of which over one and a half million were still alive, having been liberated during the Red Army’s advance.
One major issue was the state these men were in, most having existed under the harshest of regimes with little sustenance, meaning they were not capable of being effective soldiers for some considerable time to come.
A discussion had taken place prior to the start of hostilities, during which the fate of the POW’s was discussed. Then, without apparent imperatives, there had been no change in the harsh policy that the State and Party applied to the liberated soldiers.
Now that such an imperative existed, Zhukov hoped for some understanding from his political leadership.
Even so, he had used some standard ideological concepts to try and sway the men in power, such as employing the men in Shtrafbats, as Stalin had set up the penal units under Order 227 in July 1942.
“Get it tidied up and I will sign it immediately.”
Malinin saluted and swiftly vacated the room, leaving Zhukov alone with his thoughts.
Michel Wijers leant back in his chair and enjoyed a bask in the Italian sun as he watched the little Ukrainian at his task.
Beside him sat a snoozing corporal, who had long since become bored with watching Ostap Shandruk moving through the prisoners of the 14th Waffen Grenadiere Division der SS, the infamous Galacian Division.
The ‘corporal’ would have looked more at home in the uniform of a US Marine 1st Lieutenant but, like Wijers, Solomon Meyer was in his role as a member of OSS.
Making up the threesome was a serious looking Polish Captain, there purely to smooth the way with the Camp Commandant once Shandruk had completed his task.
Polish II Corps controlled Rimini, and therefore the Galacians were their responsibility, or more accurately, problem.
Already a decent number, Wijers estimated about seventy men, were sat in an area designated by the camp commandant, ready for their part in Rossiter’s plans
Shandruk, having been plucked from Sassy in record time, had met quickly with Rossiter for a briefing before moving off with the two OSS agents on a task of great importance.
Which task brought him to sunny Italy in the uniform of an American infantry Master Sergeant in the presence of men from his old division. A dozen of the segregated men had fought in his old Pioniere unit and he knew their worth well. The celebrations that should accompany the reunion with old comrades could wait for now, as Shandruk understood the need for haste.
Explanations could also wait and, in a testament to their respect for the former officer, men held their questions back.
Dusk was falling before the task was completed and one hundred and ninety-eight Ukrainian SS had volunteered, satisfying Rossiter’s criteria.
The Polish officer sorted out the matter of release with the mystified Major commanding, backed up by the presence of a full colonel of the Dutch Princess Irene Brigade, for that was Wijers’ role for the duration, adding weight to the cover story the Poles had been spoon fed.
His ‘rank’ also guaranteed cooperation from the Italian transport company from which he had commandeered truck and drivers, trucks which would shortly carry the ‘volunteers’ to the military airfield nearby.
The ten C47 aircraft that waited were well beyond his ability to obtain, having been approved by a much higher authority in Versailles.
It was gone midnight before the group began their long flight to Paris, and shorter second leg to their final destination of Camp 5A on the shores of Lough Neagh, a few miles east of Cookstown.
Cookstown was in County Tyrone, Northern Ireland.
Set aside for German prisoners of war, the OSS had appropriated the 5A facility for their own purposes two years beforehand, and few of its present inhabitants were American or British by birth.
Officially, neither the camp nor its inmates existed.
War does not determine who is right, only who is left.
Bertrand Russell
Chapter 66 - THE LUNATIC
1300 hrs, Sunday 19th August 1945, Hurlach, Germany.
Allied Forces - 4e Compagnie, 2e Battalion, 152e Regiment, and disorganised remnants of 12e Dragoon Regiment, all of 14e Infantry Division of French 1e Army, Remnants of 2833rd Combat Engineer Battalion, 540th US Engineer Combat Group, of US 7th Army, 522nd[Nisei] Field Artillery Battalion, all of US 6th Army Group.
Soviet Forces - 3rd Battalion, 11th Motorised Rifle Brigade, and 1st Battalion [less one company] 186th Tank Brigade, all of 10th Tank Corps, and Special Tank Company, 44th [Motorised] Engineer Brigade, and 76th Guards Mortar Regiment, all of 5th Guards Tank Army.
The deluge had been constant since night had turned into day, deadly objects of all shapes and descriptions dropping from the sky onto the positions occupied by Lieutenant Mercier’s grandly named ‘4th Compagnie Battle Group’.
A grandiose term for a modest group consisting of the survivors of his own 4e Compagnie, 2e Bataillon, 152e Infantry Regiment, swollen by stragglers and remnants from other units of the doomed 14th French Infantry Division plus thirty leaderless US engineers from the 2833rd Combat Engineer Battalion..
He was supposed to be acting as a mobile reserve for his battalion, blessed as he was with a number of American trucks and ‘liberated’ civilian vehicles.
Instead, Soviet artillery and ground attack aircraft had pinned him in place, his casualty list growing, seemingly every minute bringing a report of more casualties.
The radio had been active, but none of the urgent messages were for his unit. Requests for orders were rebuffed or ignored.
Fig #40 - Hurlach
Mercier was one of the few ‘proper’ soldiers in the unit, or indeed, the division. It had been formed from mainly FFI elements as France was liberated and the powers that be wanted to be seen to contribute more manpower to the destruction of Nazi Germany. In truth, the French Military probably never imagined that the weak FFI based units would ever see real action, and certainly not of the type visited upon them by the battle-hardened Russian troopers.
In Southern Germany, they had been virtually welcomed as bordering on Liberators at times, the alternative of Soviet Occupation being far too horrible for most to contemplate.
Now things were very different.
On the 9th August, his division had found itself in the front line and on the receiving end of heavy Soviet ground and artillery attacks.
The 14th Infantry disintegrated under the pressure, some stalwarts managing to form defensive positions as the Soviets flooded past them, others running as fast as their legs could carry them.
US Cavalry and French armour had arrived and temporarily halted the attacks, but they had recommenced, displaying even more fury, and the defences were constantly breached and pushed back.
What was left of an organised 14th Division had been concentrated in the area between Hattenhofen and Fürstenfeldbruck, holding a frontage of ten kilometres. They had been bolstered by the addition of two battalions of the 2e French Armoured’s 3e Regiment de Marche du Tchad, competent motorised infantry, sadly now without much of their transport following heavy combat and air strikes.
The remnants of the 12e Regiment de Curiasseurs had been organised into a large company and were positioned around Adelshofen, ready to counter-attack when necessary.
The Soviet attack fell upon the forces gathered along the Augsberger Straβe running south-east from Mammendorf, vast quantities of high-explosive being
delivered by the artillery of 5th Guards Tank Army.
10th Tank Corps, new commander in place and logistical issues sorted, drove hard and fast into the French lines.
2e French Armoured Division, anchored to the 14e at Mammendorf had to give ground, or be outflanked.
To the south, a composite team from the 45th US Infantry Division, covering from Fürstenfeldbruck to Gröbenzell, similarly folded back, but not before a company of M-10’s from the 645th Tank-Destroyer battalion savaged the flank of 10th Tank Corps advance, knocking out twenty of the 186th Tank Brigade’s T34’s in as many minutes.
Despite this success, the 45th had to give ground.
10th Tank Corps flooded through, pushing hard and quickly, overrunning the artillery and support units behind the lines.
River crossings over the Amper at Schongeising and Grafrath were captured intact and without a fight, as the 10th raced on to its target of Buchloe, some forty five kilometres beyond the front line, intent on outflanking Augsberg.
A desperate attack by USAAF Thunderbolts ravaged the lead Soviet formations, leaving hundreds of men from the 11th Motorised Rifle Brigade dead and wounded in their wake, although not without unaffordable cost to the ground-attack unit, which left five of its precious aircraft behind on the field.
The 11th thundered on and bounced the River Lech at Landsberg am Lech, a town made famous by the prison in which Hitler had written 'Mein Kampf'.
A handful of men from 2e French Armoured’s 97e Quartier General, a motor transport unit, were cut down as the motorised infantry pushed hard.
Soviet recon troops entering Kaufering found the bridges still down, having been destroyed by the Germans during the previous war.
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Mercier was still asking for instructions, desperate for information, not even beginning to imagine how close he was to destruction.
A French officer from the 2e’s Fusiliers Marins Tank-destroyer unit had decided to dig his heels on the Lech, just east of Klosterlechfeld, and bloodily halted the unsupported Soviet infantry before they crossed the river.
The Soviet commander made a swift appreciation of the situation, and ordered units from Landsberg to move north, in order to drive into the flank of the French tank-destroyers.
Lacking good intelligence, he decided to order the Katyushas of 76th Guards Mortar Regiment to drop their rockets on likely defensive points on the road heading north, paying particular attention to Hurlach and Obermeitingen, both on the road to Klosterlechfeld.
3rd Battalion, 11th Motorised Rifles, was tasked for the attack, directly supported by a tank company from the 44th [Motorised] Engineer Brigade, with most of the 186th Tank Brigade to follow as soon as it caught up.
The 76th’s twenty-seven surviving Katyushas punched out their rockets, and, as was expected from such a veteran unit, they arrived on target.
In truth, few men were killed outright, and casualties were relatively light considering the amount of high-explosive that arrived in a short period of time.
However, the shock value was immense, especially to troops that had sustained a constant moderate barrage for some hours, and many a former FFI warrior messed his pants and cried for his ‘mère.’
The 11th Motorised, although a unit that was tried and tested, also contained men who had seen little by way of proper combat.
Such a man was Major Vsevolod Skotolsky.
A French machine-gunner opened up as the lead units of the 3rd Battalion drove out of the cover of the trees and into full view. The sole casualty was the Battalion Commander, a popular officer who believed in leading from the front. Blood and brain matter splattered all over the panicky Skotolsky, and he turned his formation to the west, exposing the flank to further fire, as he desperately tried to regain the cover of the tree line to the west of the road.
The French were using an old Hotchkiss M1914 machine, unusually equipped with the 250 round belt, and the young Frenchman using it had no compunction about firing off every round, the shock of the Katyusha strike wearing off with the pleasure of retaliation.
One more man was injured in the hailstorm and all vehicles made it back into the woods.
Skotolsky, conscious of the passage of something unspeakable down his face, snatched up the microphone and called in a report.
By the time the unhinged de facto commander of the 3rd Battalion had finished, those listening believed that half the Allied Army was fortified within the confines of Hurlach.
The 76th’s Katyushas, already lined up for the next strike, were retasked, and let loose again on the small German village.
186th Tanks were redirected to take advantage of the west approach, intent on hooking up through Schwabmühlhausen and round the west flank of the Hurlach defences. More elements of the 11th were to accompany them as infantry support.
Unfortunately for Semenchenko, the new Commander of 10th Tanks, he received a call from Colonel General Poluboiarov, who had recently taken over from the terminally-ill Volsky.
The man was impatient for news of success and, on being informed of the hold-up, ordered instant action, regardless of losses.
Perturbed, the normally calm Semenchenko quickly considered the options and made contact with the commander of the 44th Engineer Special Company.
Orders given and acknowledged, he moved on to Skotolsky, pinning him in place until the 44th had arrived and then ordering him to support closely.
In the short period of time he had been commander of the 10th, he had not been able to acquaint himself with all his unit leader’s, so was unaware that Skotolsky was not the normal commander, otherwise he might have acted differently, especially as the 11th’s commander was close at hand in Landsberg.
But he didn’t, so he left the battle in the hands of an inexperienced engineer Captain, and an incompetent, panic-stricken wreck of a Major.
Mercier listened attentively as an NCO reported on the Soviet forces, although the evidence was in front of his eyes.
They had stopped, and more than that, had stopped in a fixed position.
Such things are the recipe of disaster.
He beckoned his radio operator forward, detailing the unit he wanted to contact.
There was no reply.
“Merde! Try another.”
Fig # 41 - Battle of Hurlach
The operator consulted the frequencies, altered to suit, and again transmitted.
Nothing.
A third try and the set chirped into life as an Oriental accent acknowledged the cry for help.
“Tell him to stand by,” shouted Mercier, fumbling with his map.
He wrote down the map reference details and the coordinates and relieved the operator of the handset.
“Roger that, Emile Two-Four-Alpha. Shot on the way.”
Lieutenant Mercier had no idea what the 552nd was equipped with, but judging by the ranging shell that arrived and ploughed into the woods, it was very large and very deadly.
“Raleigh Two-Six, fire for effect, repeat, fire for effect.”
Ten OT-34/85’s of the Special Tank Company, 44th [Motorised] Engineer Brigade leapt into view, driving hard in column until they cleared the edge of the woods, then shaking into line.
The young Captain in charge went by the book, organising his tanks as if back in Officers School.
An experienced officer would have contacted the infantry, ensuring they were advancing with him but he was carried away by the moment.
An experienced officer would have spotted that the infantry were rooted to the spot and halted his advance, diving for cover as quickly as possible.
An experienced officer might well have destroyed his command in the doing, as the 155mm and 8” Howitzers of the American battalion placed their heavy shells right on the money, wrecking tree and vehicle in equal measure, transforming the former into lethal splinters that decimated the motorised troopers and converting the latter into funeral pyres for their occupants.
Men died ten times over, tossed and smashe
d by the heavy barrage, buried alive or driven mad by the relentless assault. The US artillery strike coincided with another salvo by the Katyushas falling full sqaure on the French positions.
FFI soldiers who had risen to enjoy the view of the artillery, succumbed in large numbers as the rockets crashed down.
The radio operator and his equipment became victims immediately, and Mercier could no longer speak to the American artillerymen miles to the rear.
This was unfortunate, as the Soviet armour approached his position in a steady line.
Had he fought the T34 before then he may have noticed the difference, but he hadn’t, so the surprise was as complete as the horror they brought to the battle.
OT34’s were modified for Engineer use, the hull machine gun removed and an improved ATO42 flamethrower installed, which flamethrowers now started to spit fire at the French positions.
It was too much.
Some ran, some stood and stared, some surrendered, and some died in the most horrible way.
Two American engineers lurked with explosive charges, waiting for a moment to dash out and destroy a tank. Two ATO’s found them and transformed them into living torches, thrashing blindly in the ruins until they were dispatched by a sympathetic burst from their corporal’s grease gun.
Skotolsky’s unit had started to move by themselves, a handful of vehicles and men moving out of the artillery death trap to close on the relative safety of the village.
Crying like a child, the Soviet Major was curled up in the back of his M3 Scout car, the driver having moved forward of his own volition, in search of safety, and to hell with the idiot in the back.
The young Corporal, sat opposite Skotolsky, spat in contempt. The only other conscious survivor in the vehicle, he shouted at his officer, cursing, swearing, trying to stop the man’s shocked babbling.
Making the road, the M3 ground forward, all four tyres punctured and coming apart, finally surrendering to the inevitable as the vehicle ground to a halt close by the first fiery barricade.
