by Gee, Colin
A moment of silence and reflection.
Knocke nodded to himself, his mind acknowledging the future sacrifices that would be demanded of his troopers.
“But this Brigade, all of us...”
He paused to gather himself.
Every man felt the electricity of the moment.
“I,” a strange crackle of emotion affected the commanders’ voice, “Will not rest until the day this war is won.”
The moment passed and Knocke's voice steadied.
“Some of us will die, as many of our comrades have already done on countless battlefields these last few years. But all of us will live on, remembered for what we do now, and the way we in which we do it.”
Stopping abruptly, the listeners heard his words softly echo round the room as Knocke gathered himself for his final words. He gently gesticulated around the group, singling out no man, encompassing all.
“Each of us knows that this must be done.”
“Each of us knows what is required of us.”
“Each of us knows what it may cost.”
And with a smile and real fire in his eyes, Knocke ventured.
“And yet, none of us would change places with others in safer places, eh?”
The gentle, relaxed laughter was not forced, but came naturally from men confident in their cause and leader.
“Now, Kameraden, truly, for the new European order, and for the Fatherland, let us do all we can, so that we can all go home again.”
Knocke punched the next words out so they would have the desired effect.
“Meine Herren” and the officers, as one, shot to attention. His tone softened but remained powerful. “Meine freunde, you are the best of the best, and it is an honour and privilege to command you.”
His crisp military salute was returned by the entire room.
“Good luck to you all.”
Watches were synchronised and the senior officers dismissed to their commands.
Lavalle offered his hand to Knocke and, not for the first time, the two shared a warm handshake.
“Ernst, I am off to get the rest of the Corps moving. If I can offer you anything else today then I will let you know, but I doubt it.”
Knocke shrugged, reconciled to the fact that the other units of the Corps would not be up for some time to come.
“Stay in touch, and good luck.”
They saluted each other and Lavalle left, mounting his staff car and speeding away.
Knocke was alone, all the staff engaged on last minute preparations.
He lit a cigarette.
Blowing the smoke over the map he saw it cling and roll, gently moving over the roads and contours, almost as the smoke of a battlefield.
His mind wandered over his capture by the French and the abomination of the Rheinweisenlager. His first meeting with Lavalle, and THE conversation.
‘Well, here we are now.’
When the proposition of teaching Allied soldiers had been discussed, he had agreed, expecting to be a classroom soldier until the Allies had no further use for him.
The Chateau on the 6th of August had changed that idea.
‘What is it the English say? Once again to the breach?’
Stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette, he strode to the full-length mirror to check his uniform.
The new armband drew critical attention, feeling both so wrong and so right in equal measure.
He fingered his throat decorations and ensured the ‘Pour-le-Merite’, was foremost.
Completing the ensemble, he placed the dark blue Kepi on his head, and paused to take in the figure before him.
Nodding his approval to the reflection, he turned smartly and left the room, his command tank starting up with a brusque instruction from Lutz, his NCO signaller, when he saw the Colonel approach.
The original concept of the Legion units had been to form ex-SS troopers under the command of French Officers. The plan never got off the ground, especially as existing French officers did not necessarily have the skill sets required to direct tanks in action.
Pragmatic as ever, the French had understood that the Waffen SS leadership would do the job for them, and so the units formed under mainly German command.
The attempt to relieve Stuttgart commenced under the direction of Colonel Ernst-August Knocke, whilst the most senior French officer in the Brigade was a Major.
0832 hrs, Thursday 30th August 1945, French First Army Headquarters, Hotel Stephanie, Baden-Baden.
It was a simple enough task, now Kowalski had declared himself. His every move was microscopically observed and recorded, and all those he associated with, however briefly, received their own dedicated teams.
Whilst Etienne Bossong welcomed the additional clientele that visited his wine shop, he remained unaware of the scrutiny he was under, a scrutiny that became more focussed when one of ‘Deux’s’ bright sparks made the connection with the Chateau du Haut-Kœnigsbourg.
Irma Schmidt, girlfriend of the ‘Polish’ Major, and one-time Luftnachrichtenhelferinnen, was given a clean bill of health, but still the watchers kept watching.
The same could not be said for Georges Heppel, an hotel worker with deeply hidden but impeccable connections to the pre-war French Communist Party, nor for Heinz Rüssel, a one-armed German baker, whose father was found to be a Spartacist. Most certainly not for octogenarian ex-army Colonel Christian Löwe, who had a previously unknown and decidedly unhealthy interest in powerful broadcasting equipment.
Following his contact instructions to the letter, Heppel inserted the message in the hollow cutlery and delivered breakfast to the agent’s room, knocking in the accepted manner.
In order to preserve the pretence of Knocke’s compliance, the message had to be accurate.
Which it was, reporting ‘Camerone’s’ movements and plans precisely.
It just happened to be too late to act upon the contents.
Sat in the hotel lobby, examining a magazine that pictorially and saucily depicted the latest Paris fashions, De Walle leant forward and stirred the newly-arrived coffee, noting with satisfaction the signal for success.
Heppel had eventually understood where his loyalties lay, and his sister’s continuing good health depended on his ability to carry on as normal under ‘new management’.
0900 hrs, Thursday 30th August 1945, Wurm River line, two kilometers from Dagersheim, Germany.
Allied forces – 1st Regiment du Marche, and 1st Regiment, Chars D’Assault, and 1st Engineer Battalion, and 1st Anti-tank Battalion, and 1st Chasseur D’Affrique, and 1st Recon Compagnie, and 1st Legion Artillery Battalion, all of 1st Legion Brigade de Chars D’Assault ‘Camerone’, and 5th Regiment du Marche, and 3rd Recon Compagnie, seconded from 3rd Legion Division ‘Alma’ to ‘Camerone’, all of Command Group ‘A’, of Legion Corps D’Assault, of 1st French Army, of US 6th Army Group.
Soviet forces – 162nd & 163rd Guards Rifle Regiments, and 125th Guards Artillery Regiment, all of 54th Guards Rifle Division, of 3rd Guards Rifle Corps, and 1st & 2nd Battalions, 36th Engineer-Sapper Brigade, and 1416th Self-Propelled Artillery Regiment, and 12th Guards Heavy Tank Regiment, and 65thTank Regiment, and 166th Tank Regiment, all of 59th Army, of 2nd Red Banner Central European Front.
On cue, the supporting artillery units started firing their ordnance at the Russian positions, throwing up mountains of earth, and occasionally something more fragile.
A simple order rode the air waves.
“Vorwärts.”
Uhlmann, his headquarters tank moving slowly behind the first two companies, remained glued to his binoculars as return fire arrived; some mortars, but no artillery as yet.
Swivelling to his left, he watched as the half-tracks and recon troops of the 1st RdM pushed forward, moving ahead of his tank line.
Pressing his throat mike, he encouraged the 1st Company commander.
“Berta calling Cäesar Zero-One.”
A moment’s pause before the ex-Hauptsturmfuhrer from Das Reich r
eplied.
“Cäesar Zero-One, go ahead.”
“Pick up the pace, Cäesar. Stay in line with Julius elements. Over.”
“Zu befehl, Berta. Cäesar Zero-One out.”
Uhlmann swivelled to watch his First tank company noticeably quicken, encouraging the trailing Second Company to follow.
Enemy artillery started to arrive but it was inaccurate and did not trouble the Legion tanks, although it was of a large enough calibre to worry Uhlmann, should the Soviets get their response organised.
Behind the assault wave, Knocke was focussing his binoculars, his view obscured by the occasional artillery burst as well as the mass of moving soldiery to his front.
His Beobachs Panther possessed no main gun, removed to provide extra room for more radios.
These radios were now alive with reports of targets and contacts, incoming fire, and the first casualties.
He concentrated part of his mind on the messages, the other he used to interpret the sights of battle.
On the left flank, the 1st’s Recon troopers had been hit, one of the Puma armoured cars smoking badly, an accompanying half-track ablaze behind it.
Mortar men from the 1st RdM’s 2nd Battalion swiftly deployed and got to work. They were rewarded with a secondary explosion right where they were told the enemy anti-tank position was, and no further fire came from it.
However, the hedgehog position was bristling with weapons, and more AT guns, supported by machine-guns, started to take a toll of men and vehicles alike.
The commander of the reconnaissance element was dead but his second took over, calmly ordering the pre-arranged smoke to fall and cover the advance.
Knocke decided to give some more assistance.
“Anton to Adler, receiving.”
The air liaison officer, bouncing along in a half-track next to Uhlmann, quickly acknowledged.
“Order one parcel to strike Leningrad immediately, Anton over.”
Again, the liaison officer acknowledged, immediately organising a flight of ground-attack aircraft to drop their wares on top of the hedgehog position, codename Leningrad.
As he did so, Knocke opened the network and broadcast the new information for those on the peripheries.
In the blink of an eye, four Thunderbolts swooped from the sky and deposited their rockets on the Soviet defences, immersing the enemy in more smoke.
Knocke contacted the liaison officer again, partially to recognise the professionalism, and partially to confirm what support was remaining, stifling his disappointment at the limited air power available to his forces.
‘I spent years without air support anyway.’
Prior to the battle, his sixth sense had told him that ‘Rostov’ was going to be a problem, and so his command tank had been directed to proceed favouring the southernmost route, just in case.
1st Company of the tank regiment had enjoyed some success in front of Dagersheim, a sole T-70 light tank having been quickly killed by numerous shells; a number of anti-tanks guns were similarly dispatched.
However, it had not been without cost, two of the Panzer IV’s having been knocked out in return.
1st Company deployed centrally, with 2nd Company splitting up equally and accelerating to right and left, permitting 3rd Battalion of the RdM to launch an attack through the middle.
This attack was under the control of Uhlmann, Von Arnesen having elected to stay with the undoubtedly more difficult assault on the ‘Leningrad’ hedgehog.
With tank cover on both flanks, the 3rd Battalion swept forward and into the Soviet positions, a few men dropping here and there, but mainly without problems.
The two tank companies pushed on again, vacating ground that was struck by artillery shortly afterwards.
Both Knocke and Uhlmann noticed the increased effectiveness of the enemy artillery.
Unfortunately, ‘Camerone’ did not possess the appropriate equipment for effective counter-battery fire as yet, and so manoeuvre was their best defence.
From the reports emanating from the hedgehog, Von Arnesen was having the very devil of a time getting his men in close, a small watercourse having been liberally sown with mines, holding up his attack, and causing casualties amongst his Legionnaires.
‘Camerone’s’ pioneer unit deployed a platoon in SDKFZ 251 half-tracks, bringing small bridges into position and spanning the divide. The brave engineers were swept with fire, killing both the commander and second in line as they shared the dangers with their men. Seven more men were hit and dropped to the earth, the four that were only wounded being recovered by grateful infantry.
Knocke watched intently as Von Arnesen’s voice commanded the air waves, hurling his men over the bridges and up into the enemy position.
The supporting Sturmgeschutz self -propelled guns had been adding to the smoke screen, but now received orders to change tactics and seek more hardened targets.
The mortars switched their fire, bringing down high explosives to try and cut ‘Leningrad’ off from any support.
Knocke satisfied himself that the assault was proceeding and turned his attention to the ‘Alma’ force attack.
The enemy artillery seemed to be building here too, and smoking wrecks marked some losses amongst the reconnaissance element, as well as the motorized infantry company that backed up the lead troops.
A movement caught his eye and he swivelled his binoculars upwards, immediately seeing the forbidding sight of Soviet aircraft.
In his ear he heard the Air liaison officer screaming for fighter cover.
Three Shturmoviks were boring in, even though two of them trailed smoke, a sign of the air combat that had already claimed the rest of their group.
The three aircraft deposited their bombs and turned for a cannon and machine-gun run.
One of the precious JagdPanthers received a direct hit from a 50kgs bomb on the engine grille. The blast dismantled the tank-destroyer, removing sections of armour plate and throwing them in all directions, causing some gruesome casualties amongst ‘Alma’s’ Legionnaires.
A 20mm Quad mounted on an SDKFZ 7 chassis brought one aircraft down, the crew pancaking behind the lines to fight another day.
Selecting one of the Nashorne’s, the leader pumped out shell after shell from his 23mm VYa cannon. He pulled up and left the field, raging at his inaccuracy.
His second aircraft selected a half-track, and was quickly rewarded with a blossoming fire, as his shells set light to the vehicle. Burning steadily, the German half-track drove on, carrying its dead crew forward in a surreal fiery assault.
The second aircraft escaped without further damage, retreating over its lines but subsequently blundering into a group of USAAF Thunderbolts, responding to the calls for assistance, who wasted no time in adding to their total of kills.
Knocke watched closely as the 5th RdM moved forward, sensing its lack of direction, all the time straining to catch some hint of Lieutenant-Colonel Lange on the radio.
He decided to take the matter into his own hands.
“Anton to Gelbkopf-zero-one over.”
He was not acknowledged.
Concentrating on the landscape ahead of ‘Rostov’, he directed one of his signallers to continue trying to raise Lange.
The artillery plan now directed HE on ‘Rostov’, and sure enough, the landscape changed as shells started to land.
Machine-guns started to stammer out a challenge and men died in front of him, their bodies flung aside as bullets knocked them over.
Still, no word from Lange.
‘Verdamnt.’
“Anton to all units Gelb, all units Gelb, push forward quickly,” and as he was talking, he assessed the defences, “Centre on Rostov Four. Acknowledge.”
Messages returned from relieved commanders, conscious of the fact that a firm hand was on the tiller.
Switching to another channel, he thumbed the mike.
“Anton to Emil-zero-one, receiving.”
The 3rd Tank Company commander, a
highly-experienced former Obersturmfuhrer of the SS-Leibstandarte, had already anticipated the order and was closing up.
Having acknowledged Knocke’s order, the 3rd Company picked up pace, its eighteen Panther tanks churning up the soil as they strove to get up to support ‘Alma’.
Binoculars up again, Knocke swept the enemy positions and saw something emerge from its hiding place, the foliage and netting cover now alight following a close strike. His brain fought to recognise the shape, and he concentrated more to bring it into focus.
‘Schiesse!’
The ISU-122 was very bad news indeed, its main gun capable of killing anything on the field that day and, unlike its IS cousins, it carried enough shells to do a thorough job.
As if to emphasise the point, shells erupted from various camouflaged points along ‘Rostov’ as concealed ISU-122’s opened up.
One JagdPanther received two solid hits and came apart like a dead rose head, leaving nothing but the running gear and lower hull in place to mark its end.
Another JagdPanther took a single hit, slewing to one side as the nearside track unravelled.
Two of the JagdPanzer IV’s were destroyed, both equally catastrophically.
One thing about the ISU-122 was its vulnerability, a fixed mount gun carried on a modestly armoured vehicle.
All of the Legion tanks present could kill the thing with one shot, and one of the Nashorne’s led the way, striking and destroying the southernmost ISU with its first shell.
The Nashorne itself was extremely lightly armoured, the thickest plate being 30mm, but it carried the deadly Pak43 88mm gun, so it was a question of gunnery.
And German gunnery was excellent, the stationary Nashorne consuming another two ISU’s before it attracted any attention in the target-rich environment.
The heavy shell missed as the Nashorne had relocated.
Another JagdPanzer had succumbed, its crew dodging bullets in a successful attempt to reach a friendly shell hole.
The artillery, not to be outdone, took out another ISU, a dramatic mushroom cloud of black smoke and flame marking its end.
