11;45am August 18th
Seine bridge
Outside Troyes
France
It was clear to Wittman the moment he came to a stop that he had made a mistake. He had given up ground without gaining an advantage. The twenty Shermans advancing upon him were hovering just at the edge of his effective weaving through the bushes and among the trees to dodge the odd shell he sent after them. But if he did not keep moving the force in the valley and on the neighbouring ridge would eventually outflank him. With too little infantry to screen his Panzers he was in trouble. There was no artillery support yet, the two 88mm in his force covered another approach and were low on ammunition.
The force blocking the approaches to the bridge was in even deeper trouble. The force of six Shermans had grown to at least fifteen and now included nearly a dozen halftracks, some smaller M5A1 Honey tanks as well as at least two companies of infantry. The fast moving Honeys darted ahead and as Wittman watched one of the defender’s two anti-tank guns disappeared in a ball of flame. The first of the Fallschirmjäger began to fall back, slipping into the shadows of the small hamlet that covered the approaches to the stone bridge. He had to make a decision.
‘Tigers 1 to 3 stay here and keep the Shermans at a distance until the infantry becomes a direct threat. Then fall back. Tiger 4 and 5 you are with me. Right flank full speed. We need to stop the force in the valley.’ With all the trees and bushes obscuring his view he could not do that from his present position. He did not bother with the far ridge. It was too heavily wooded for the enemy even if he eventually outflanked the position to bring his guns to bear decisively at least for now.
Full speed was a relative thing for a Tiger – 20 kilometers per hour in fact. And Michael had chosen unlucky as the Tiger 4 turned downhill and exposed its flank two of the attacking Shermans took aim. A ball of flame erupted at the front and the massive machine came to a halt. Its front wheel gone and the track hanging loose, its commander desperately used what little motion he had to traverse back towards the attackers to keep his 9 cm frontal armour facing them. He could keep the advancing Shermans at bay with ease but there was little else he could do to support Michael’s attack.
With Tiger 5 a few meters behind him Wittman’s machine rumbled down the hill, crushing trees and bushes in its path. A few shells exploded around them but then the angle of the slope briefly worked in their favour. ‘Manfred, we will reach a clearing in a few meters, when we stop take a shot at the halftracks.’ The Tiger lurched to a stop and the 88mm gun roared. A fountain of dirt erupted among the attacking force but the halftracks, machine guns blazing, kept coming. It was now a race, whoever reached the shelter of the houses first would enjoy the advantage. At maximum speed the Tigers crept along, but they lost. Heavily outnumbered and without useful antitank weapons most of the German parachutists fell back many dragging their wounded with them. Only a courageous few took on the leading American vehicles with hand grenades. Two halftracks exploded in balls of fire but the rest just kept coming. At a distance of less than 300 meters Wittman saw them disappearing between the ruined houses. Manfred sent a last futile round after one of the Shermans as it disappeared behind a wall. The wall erupted in a cloud of bricks, sand and dust but the Sherman had escaped.
It was now too late, they were committed, if they turned now they would expose their vulnerable sides and would certainly be destroyed. Dammit can’t this rustbucket move faster? ‘ We’re breaking records as is Commander’ answered the driver.’
From behind one of the houses an American tank fired and Wittman’s entire field of vision became an impenetrable cloud of dust and smoke.
He pushed open the turret hatch and peered over the edge. They were less than 50 yards from the first house.’ MOVE IT’. For a moment he could see no American tanks. Ahead was the bridge over the Seine tributary that made this little hamlet so important. The last of the Fallschirmjäger were scurrying back over it. Seeking shelter on the far side from the advancing American column. ‘Machine gunners ready the moment we are among the houses keep firing to keep the infantry down.’
They rounded the corner of the house and found themselves face to face with the main enemy force - nearly twenty vehicles moving along the narrow street in single file. The distance was less than two hundred meters. Manfred did not even wait for the order. The 88 barked and the lead vehicle - a Honey – disintegrated as the shell tore through the ammunition. At this distance, the power of the 88 was such that the shell went right through the turret of the light tank and only exploded when it impacted on the frontal armour of the Sherman behind it. Before the smoke had cleared the gunner fired two more shots, blindly this time down the street. In this narrow alley he could hardly miss. A fireball told him that something had been hit.
The road was not wide enough to bypass the wreck so the Tiger just went over what remained of the Honey, its machine guns chattering.
For a moment it lurched and seemed to stutter. Then the sheer weight of the metal monster took it over the charred remains of its victim. Metal shrieked against metal as the Honey’s frame gave way, and then the Tiger was moving again. It rammed into the Sherman’s mangled remains and began pushing. From behind the decapitated bulk of the American tank, the 88 spat death down the road. In the dust and smoke behind it the Fallschirmjaeger fanned out into the surrounding buildings.
12:05am August 18th
Seine bridge
Outside Troyes
France
Near the end of the line George Patton, strained to understand the delay. He was elated, they had made it they were within grasping distance of the bridge. He heard the bark of the 88 and saw the fireball erupt at the front of the column. For a moment he was unsure whether this was a tank attack or whether he was under artillery fire. In two leaps he was out of his jeep and on top of the rear of the Sherman rumbling slowly ahead of him. Just in time to see a halftrack near the middle of his force disappear in a fireball. Steadying himself against the turret he stood up and saw in total amazement, a lone Tiger trundling out of the smoke and flames that was now pouring out of the vehicles at the front of his force. In an instant the momentum of his attack disintegrated. Some of the halftracks screeched to a halt others swerved to avoid collisions.
At this distance the Shermans had a chance, or would have if they had not all been in each other’s way. Methodically the Tiger put on shell after another into whichever tank was closest to it while it simply ran over the hapless halftracks. Like a monster from another time the 60 tons of metal ground over the American force, its impenetrable frontal armour absorbing the furtive shells that a few Shermans managed to lob at it. Around it, stones and mortar erupted from the walls as frantic American small arms munitions ricochet off its massive armour.
Two of the Sherman commanders tried to escape by simply pushing their way through the houses to escape the shooting alley. Only one made it, the other took a shell in the flank and started burning. Still travelling at its top speed the Tiger simply pushed its burning opponent out of the way bringing down the remainder of a wall upon it. Both disappeared into a cloud of dust.
Halfway through the column the Tigers luck seemed to run out. A shell struck the turret and the vehicle lurched to a halt. Patton watched in morbid disbelief as the monster seemed to reel, and then with a roar its cannon spoke ripping through another halftrack trapped near the end of the line. Shrapnel hissed past the General.
Another American shell bounced off the monsters frontal armour and took down the old stone wall next to it in an eruption of stones and smoke. Through the flames the Tiger kept coming.
By now the rear of the column had managed to regain their sense and began reversing. Patton jumped off the Sherman and dove into the jeep. ‘That group of bushes quickly, the moment he comes out of that alley we’ll take him with bazookas.’ The driver of the jeep was not about to argue with his general.
Bouncing across the field he saw the other Tiger erupt from the trees. Rather tha
n head into the hamlet this monster came straight for him, its long barrel menacingly traversing. Then a red flash leapt from the houses and the Sherman that had escaped the shooting alley came into view. Its first shell, fired at point-blank range, took the Tiger in the vulnerable engine compartment. Smoke rose from the stricken behemoth but its turret began turning to deal with this threat. But the Sherman was faster; a second shell hit the Tiger in the flank and flames shot out of the stricken engine. Its hatches burst open and with the speed of hardened professionals two of the crew flung themselves out of their doomed vehicle before any of the Americans could react. The next two died in a hail of machine gun fire.
The General’s Colt was out and in a scene reminiscent of a bad western George Patton emptied his revolvers magazine at the tank crew. But at a distance of nearly 300 feet the shots had no effect.
‘Bazooka forward’ he yelled ‘deploy against those houses’.
He saw two teams each carrying one of the long hollow-tube anti-tank weapon huddled behind a small stone fence. ‘Move you bastards!’ In the heat of the battle he pointed the now-empty Colt at them. Like rats up a drainpipe they scurried forward. Patton barely twenty feet behind them, reloaded Colt blazing.
As the rear of the American column rallied, the German parachutists did too. Emboldened by the Tigers charge they stormed forward determined to clear any infantry threat to Wittman’s Tiger. Potato masher hand grenades flew into houses sending glass and smoke in all directions as they methodically cleared the houses of the hamlet barely meters behind Wittman’s still advancing Tiger. There would be no ambush for this Tiger.
There had been three Shermans at the end of the column which had managed to extract themselves from the alley and taken up position a hundred meters away behind a burning barn. Leaving the bazooka teams in place Patton raced back to his jeep and joined the Shermans behind the barn.
With the butt of his revolver he banged on the turret lid of one of the tanks. When the shaken, soot-covered face of the young tank commander emerged Patton explained his plan. ‘We have the bazooka teams in place. The Tiger is alone but we must draw him out from among the buildings, separate him from his infantry screen. When he reaches that building, he pointed, you need to get his attention and the bazooka crews will do the rest.’
You’re joking, Sir ? If we do that we’re dead ! Al Irzik stammered.
Those crews need your support they are doing their job – Look there he is now. Move. Patton leapt down to his jeep and yelled at the driver. “These yellow sons of bitches are shitting their pants. We need to give our bazooka teams cover move. “
His driver was much too well trained to argue. Faced with a choice of confronting a Tiger tank in an unprotected jeep or George Patton’s temper the Tiger was nothing. The jeep roared forward just as the Tiger put a shell into the burning barn. With an infernal screech it glanced off the turret of one of the Shermans.
12:10pm August 18th
Seine bridge
Outside Troyes
France
This stank. There were too many Americans infantrymen still about, the squad of Wehrmacht parachutists screening his vehicle suddenly seemed dreadfully inadequate. Most of them were pinned down by small arms fire.
The Tiger reached the end of the hamlet and through his visor Wittman saw the shape of a Sherman silhouetted behind the flames of a burning barn. ‘Sabot the Barn 11 o’clock fire’. The gunner was like a robot. The roar of the guns shook the Panzer and smoke billowed through the compartment, the breech ran back and ejected the casing. The next second it was loaded and another shot into the barn was rewarded with a turret of a Sherman travelling through the air. Out of sight the other two American tanks reversed away at top speed.
That was when Wittman noticed the staff car racing across the field.
With its sixty ton weight the Tiger pushed one of the burnt-out halftracks out of the way. Metal screeched against metal. A blast erupted from the last house to the right and then the Panzer commander saw a parachutist signal two injured Americans to surrender. One of his colleagues pickled up a long tube and signalled that it was safe to round the corner of the house and turn onto the open road.
Just at that moment jeep turned and came directly at him. From its seats machine guns fire erupted. With a screech it came to an abrupt stop against one of the stone walls that delineated garden in this region.
To his right two hand grenades exploded sending the body of an American flying through the air. Michael did not know it but the second bazooka team had just been put out of action. The crew of the jeep, seemed to falter, then resumed fire. Already they were so close that if any one of them had a hand grenade they posed a threat to the Tiger’s tracks.
The Tiger moved forward and before the jeep could reverse pinned the little vehicle against the remnants of a stone wall lining a field.
‘Manfred the Schmeisser NOW,’ it flew across the cramped, smoke-filled compartment. Michael caught it as he popped out of the turret. In contrast to most other panzers the Tiger did not have a turret machine gun. A second later he was out of the hatch, Schmeisser pointing at the stopped jeep. To his left two parachutists soldiers also approached Schmeissers rattling. A hand grenade sailed through the air and exploded near the jeep. The fire from behind the wall stopped. Glancing uneasily left and right, Wittman ordered the Tiger forward. All around him things seemed to suddenly go quiet.
The driver of the jeep and one of the men in the back seat were clearly dead, the other man in the back seat injured badly on the shoulder. There was something different about him. There could be no doubt that he was in severe pain, a large angry red gash across his shoulder left his right arm hanging limp at his side. But with the other hand the man was reaching for a sidearm. When he realized that the American was carrying a double holster gun belt. My God this is like a wild west movie. Something white and silver glinted in the man’s hand and in horror Michael realised that he was reliving a bad scene from a western movie as the man pulled a colt on him and fired .. and missed.
His reaction was non-existent, mesmerized by the curious wild west scene his brain failed to inform his trigger finger to pull and empty the magazine at the shooter. One of the Fallschirmjäger fired a single shot and the American let off a scream and dropped the Colt.
As if shaking away a bad dream, Michael shook himself and slid down the Tiger to where the American lay slumped, now also bleeding from another injury to his shoulder area. With the parachutists covering him he approached and suddenly stopped in his tracks.
The man before him had stars on his helmet, an officer and a senior one. He reached into the holster and retrieved the second Colt. Then he held up a bandage. He had no English to make any small talk so pidgin would have to do: kaput Ja ? .. Hände Hoch . One of the words must have connected, from between clenched lips General George S Patton hissed, ‘Ja ! Kaputt’ A few seconds later he fainted from loss of blood before they could ask his name and serial number. It was only when Michael searched his pockets that he realised who his prisoner was.
A few hours later the remnants of the American column made a last futile attempt at the German blocking positions. By that time the Tigers were out of ammunition and if it had not been for the last 88mm gun hastily redeployed on the ridge, the German position would have evaporated. But the spirit had gone out of the Americans. After less than ten minutes of struggle, they retreated. That night American officers carrying white flags approached Michael’s positions and more than 3000 G.I.s were taken prisoner and marched back to the lines where they are handed over to the Allies. They left behind over 120 abandoned or burnt-out American tanks and more than 300 vehicles.
The next day at the meeting of the Joint Chiefs Marshall did not need to inform his colleagues of the disaster. Goebbels former subordinates in the propaganda ministry did their best to play up the “un-provoked violation of the ceasefire” and the loss to Allied moral authority. Normally this would have been brushed off but that day Admiral Kin
g, CiC of the US Navy made his move. Since the beginning of the conflict King had argued for a Japan-first policy and now he moved in for the kill. By the time it was all over Marshall had had to concede that until there were clear orders from the president to the contrary, American fuel, munitions and men would be going to the Pacific theatre rather than to Europe. Not in terms of priority but all of it. When King called Marshall two days later to confirm that there had been no orders to the contrary from the President, Marshall had to admit there were none. With nearly a million men and women deployed in the field the western allies surrendered the initiative to the retreating Wehrmacht. Liberty ships sitting in American harbours on the eastern seaboard sat empty as trains carried weapons, fuel and material to California. A week later the first squadrons of the 8 USAAF began the long trip from England via Iceland to redeploy to the Pacific. The only new equipment heading for Europe were the food and winter uniforms with which the GIs would sit out the winter somewhere along the German border.
Field Marshall Alanbrooke was not a person normally given to petty gestures, but on this instances he could not resist. When the Allied commanders in the European theatre met the day after German news agencies announced the end of Patton’s raid, he could not resist from a swipe at Eisenhower. When it came to general issues and no-one else raised any matters for discussion he asked whether perhaps, once he had regained control of all his units and their commanders, the commander of American forces in the theatre could inform this committee so that better co-ordination could in future be achieved in the theatre. For his part Eisenhower had been too angry too respond and so made the mistake of letting it pass. The point was not lost of the pro-American British commanders such as Tedder, and relations between the two English-speaking allies dropped into the deep freeze as their forces continued to crawl towards the German border and what promised to be a miserable winter camp.
The Valkyrie Option Page 36
