by Gee, Colin
Both were only nineteen years of age.
In the perverse way that history does these things, the 80th US Infantry Division had been credited with firing the final shot of the Second World War in Europe and it had now probably fired the first shot of the new ground war.
The bridge was inspected for explosives and the experienced Captain in charge ordered a second and third inspection before he accepted that none had been laid.
The discovery of a cache of explosives in the rear of one of the American trucks evidenced the omission.
With the bridge intact, the follow-up forces of 32nd Rifle Corps and 220th Independent Tank Brigade could drive straight into and through Steyr.
All along the thin lines the Soviet forces broke through, sometimes with no resistance, others fiercely contested.
Advances were made on every assault, of which there were a total of twenty-one independent main attacks from Sterninghofen in the south to Selmsdorf on the Baltic.
The Soviet plan departed from their standard tactics by utilising a general assault plan throughout Europe. Zhukov and his staff reasoned that the Allied soldiers would not be ready and little organised resistance would be found initially, so a broad front approach should yield more territory and offer the more opportunity for substantial penetrations at first.
The low opinion that the Soviet Military had for the Allies had translated into a rough expectation of about one week before any real organised counter-attacks came their way.
By that time, the picture should have developed more clearly and the large forces held in reserve would be employed to make the drives on their main targets through areas of weakness.
The Rhine beckoned to the Soviets as much as it had done to the Allies coming from the other direction a year before, and so Soviet planning for the first phase of the assault expected a large drive on the Rhine via the Ruhr, and also via Frankfurt and on into Luxembourg and Saarland. Two major targets were the port city of Hamburg and nearby Bremen, and to a lesser extent Cuxhaven. Of particular interest was the ability to operate submarines to interdict allied supply routes, much as the Germans had done in the preceding years, and both Hamburg and Bremen has bunkers suitable for the task.
Soviet planning also required the destruction, or at minimum negation, of the Allied fighter and ground attack capability throughout Europe and from the beginning artillery, saboteurs and aircraft were fulfilling this requirement with mixed results, in line with the requirements of Operation Kurgan.
A six man observation force was landed clandestinely by a Beriev MP1 seaplane on Saltholm Island in the Oresund, sovereign territory of Denmark, to observe shipping movement. The small group of naval specialists were concealed on the southern edge of the island, away from the farming community of Barakkebro to the north-west end. Soviet naval vessels stood ready to converge on any allied naval force attempting to enter the Baltic.
Elements of the Baltic Fleet landed large Soviet forces on the islands of Lolland and Falster, also Danish territory, supporting the landings with ships gunfire.
As soon as bridgeheads were established, auxiliary vessels began to unload heavy artillery pieces that were to be sited to cover shipping routes around the island.
Aircraft flew in and established a fighter base at Marthasminde on Lolland, and a combined bomber and fighter base at a larger field near Rødby. Ingenious use of the Sydmotorvejen road running north from its junction with the Ringsebøllevej adjacent to Rødby permitted operations by 571st Assault Aviation Regiment, recently equipped with the new IL-10 ground attack aircraft. Three Tupolev TU-2t torpedo bombers, specially enhanced for maritime reconnaissance completed the allocation on Lolland.
On Falster, a similar provision had been found on the Gedser Landveg road angling north from the village of Gedesby, and more aircraft arrived, this time IL-4 torpedo bombers of Soviet Naval Aviation. In fact, the Soviets had learned a great deal from the Luftwaffe’s use of roads as airfields and had hidden air regiments the length and breadth of Europe in such a manner. All the better to evade any air raids by the Western Allies.
A smaller force similarly equipped and tasked landed simultaneously on the island of Mon. Fighters flew into Kostervig to complete the defence.
To all intents and purposes, the Baltic was closed and the Northern shores of Germany secure from interference.
To the south of the Austrian attacks, all would remain quiet for now. It had not been thought prudent for security to advise the Yugoslavs of their plans. Sometime after the first Soviet units rolled forward into the attack, Russian liaison officers were being unceremoniously woken and virtually interrogated by their Yugoslavian allies, keen to understand what was happening and why they had not been informed. The delay also suited the Soviets as the Allies could not afford to ignore the large field forces of the Yugoslavian Army and their existence pinned numerous high quality allied divisions in place, divisions that could make a difference elsewhere.
GRU’S report, endorsed by Pekunin, guaranteed that once Tito was onside then the plan existed to carry Soviet and Yugoslavian forces into Northern Italy to the Mediterranean and beyond. A high-level Soviet delegation led by Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Andrey Vyshinski was already on its way to Belgrade to seek cooperation and support in the coming months. The GRU report also indicated that the omission of Yugoslav forces from the planning and conception of the operation would be easily explained away by operational security needs and no harm would be done.
The first hitch in the Soviet planning occurred later that same morning. During the high-level meeting Vyshinski was told, in no uncertain terms, that his Yugoslavian Communist Allies took an extremely jaundiced view of their exclusion from planning or even being able to offer their views on this, as Tito put it, ‘fucking lunacy’. There would be no Yugoslavian contribution to military matters.
Using extremely earthy language, Tito let Vyshinski know that the Soviets should be eternally grateful that the Yugoslav Army would stand its ground and remain a problem to affect Allied thinking. None the less, Soviet units were banned from overflying or setting foot on Yugoslavian soil until further notice.
The senior GRU officer previously attached to Tito’s headquarters accompanied the party back to Moscow under escort, where his report assuring his seniors of Tito’s compliance was examined at painful length before he succumbed in the cellars of the Lubyanka.
The great defence against the air menace is to attack the enemy's aircraft as near as possible to their point of departure.
Sir Winston Spencer Churchill
CHAPTER 41 – THE PILOT
0535 hrs Monday, 6th August 1945, 182 Squadron, RAF, Rheine Airfield, Germany.
Andrew Mackenzie had been in short trousers when Hitler’s legions rolled across the Polish border. Admittedly, that was because the family had little by the way of spare cash, for his parents ploughed their money into the education of their three sons. His father and mother worked hard, long hours away from home or taking in washing and sewing. Even though the Canadian education system was good, extra books and tuition went a long way towards their goal of givingthe three apples of their eyes the best possible start in life and an opportunity to escape the poverty trap that had ensnared the parents.
From such a humble background sprang Mackenzie, a fresh-faced gangly Canadian youth of nineteen from an impoverished family, who arrived in Europe with the rank of Pilot Officer and wings earned in basic training, when he passed out top of his course by some notable distance.
Conversion to the brutish Hawker Typhoon followed and he arrived at 182 Squadron’s RAF base nearby the German town of Rheine, eager to get to grips with the enemy. That he arrived on the evening of 6th May 1945 was, for him, a personal disaster that he felt nothing could ever overcome.
XM-F, his aircraft, was the latest refinement, with a four-bladed propeller and Sabre IIc engine. A fine weapon to take to war to be sure and he had managed one operational take-off that following morning but the mis
sion was aborted and he returned having never fired his weapons in anger, touching down as peace descended over Europe once more.
For some time now, he had been the subject of much ribbing by his comrades, partially about his lack of combat experience, partially because he moved with the grace of the proverbial bull in a china shop and partially because he was blessed with a shaggy mass of ginger hair that defied all attempts to control it. It was all good-natured, because his seasoned comrades realised that in Andy McKenzie they were in the presence of a true phenomenon; a born natural flier who could make the Typhoon do things they all considered unnatural at best, and bordering on witchcraft according to the older lags.
His Flight Lieutenant, Johnny Hall, had woken him and the rest of the quarters with little ceremony some time previously, agitated beyond measure, ordering all to the briefing room.
182 Squadron had been alerted by the ripples of response to General Clark’s message and was breaking out of its slumber to find a very different day developing around them.
As aircraft were prepared, the RAF Regiment personnel guarding the base readied themselves, not wholly aware of the circumstances surrounding their abrupt early morning reverie but understanding enough to believe that something big was happening elsewhere.
In the early morning half-light one patrolling section saw and challenged four men near one of the perimeter fuel storage bunkers and were brought under fire.
The nearby sound of automatic weapons gave urgency to the ground crews and it was not long before McKenzie and five others clawed their way into the developing morning, heading towards the headquarters of 21st Army Group at Bad Oeynhausen, from where frantic calls for help originated.
Behind them one RAF Regiment Corporal and two German black marketers lay dead, their attempt to steal fuel terminated by the unexpected early morning mobilisation of base security personnel. The other two, wounded and bleeding, lay on the ground and at great risk from retribution, for the dead Corporal had been a very popular man.
No-one will know if they would have suffered at the hands of the irate RAF soldiers, for the entire group disappeared in a fireball of exploding aviation fuel as the first of four Soviet manned P-39 D-2 Aircobras, devoid of any national markings, swept over the field. The aircraft dropped five hundred pound bombs from home built fuselage-mounted racks, copied from American originals, aiming to crater the runway before going about the business of destroying the then stranded aircraft below.
The first bomb skipped off the runway and ploughed on through the controllers van, killing all inside, terminating in the fuel storage bunker where it finally decided to function as it was designed. Everyone for eighty yards in all directions died in an instant.
Bombs two and three hit the runway and created deep craters, scattering stone and earth in all directions but did not deny its use.
Number four’s bomb refused to drop and so the aircraft banked around for a second attempt to release the weapon, which it stubbornly refused to do despite the pilot skilfully jinking the aircraft.
A 40mm Bofors gun on the edge of the strip started to hammer out its defiance but the well-trained and experienced Soviet pilots soon silenced it. Other guns joined the defence but the Aircobras worked over the field expertly, destroying aircraft at will, concentrating on anyone attempting to take off.
Parked on the western edge of the field, even the two defunct Me262’s perished, curiosities retained for fun by the RAF base personnel, relics from the airfields Luftwaffe usage by Kampfgeschwader 51. The four aircraft retired after seven minutes of intense action that left the field cratered, fuel storage facilities wrecked, buildings burning and every aircraft smashed beyond repair. Casualties amongst the ground crew and flight personnel were severe.
Only a single hit had been inflicted on the attacking Soviets machines.
0559 hrs Monday, 6th August 1945, 182 Squadron RAF, airborne over Bad Oeynhausen, Germany.
Circling at low level over the Bad Oeynhausen Headquarters, the Typhoon pilots of 182 heard nothing of the drama at their airfield as Rheine’s means of communication had been smashed by the Aircobras attentions, or of the other numerous similar dramas being played out on RAF and USAAF airfields all over Europe.
Below them, they had all the drama they could cope with. Smoke and flames belched from the Hotel Konigshof, a former Gestapo HQ, now 21st Army Group Command building, and the telltale flashes of heavy ground firing became evident.
On the scene, one quick-witted RAF liaison officer had grabbed a radio and worked his way through his frequency book trying to find some way of communicating with the aircraft above him. He could see what they could not, which was a body of enemy troops retreating under the cover of the smoke, heading north for the forest.
A number of the locations he tried would never answer, struck down by either commando attacks or aircraft bombs. He was unable to raise Rheinbaden, the location of the headquarters of the British Air Forces of Occupation, formerly 2nd Tactical Air Force RAF and suspected, as was the case, that similar events had transpired there. US 9th Air Force headquarters in Wiesbaden had suffered the worst of all.
He managed to get through to an RAF controller in Bielefeld who was able to establish contact with the circling typhoons and connect the two.
Giving calm and precise instructions the young Squadron Leader organised a strike on the retreating Soviet paratroopers, ignoring the pain caused by the grenade wounds in both legs. Wooden splinters from what had once been chairs and tables protruded from his flesh like a myriad of porcupine quills.
Three of the Typhoons swept down, unloading their RP-3 rockets as directed along the west side of the River Weser, slaughtering the retreating men in the gruesome ways that only sixty pounds of high explosive can manage. Pausing only to let the smoke from their ordnance clear, the three swept back down to low level and began to mercilessly grind up the survivors with their 20mm cannon.
Having taken heavy casualties during their assault on the Konigshof, these elite Russian paratroopers could take little of this kind of butchery and they scattered, discipline gone, not returning fire, just in an all out attempt to find personal safety and to hell with everyone else.
As the British infantry pursued them, they initially rarely took prisoners, killing without mercy in the main. Soon they became more and more horrified at the detritus of men that the RAF aircraft had spread around the ground. With their sympathy growing, shocked and dazed Russians were gathered up almost compassionately until only the occasional diehard required swift and decisive terminal force applied. Exactly one hundred and forty men had commenced the assault on Montgomery’s Headquarters. Twenty-seven remained when the firing stopped, beaten, bloodied but alive.
0608 hrs Monday, 6th August 1945, 182 Squadron RAF, airborne over Bad Oeynhausen, Germany.
Whilst the ground attack section bore in, the remaining three typhoons climbed higher automatically, in order to protect their comrades better. No one knew what was going on yet but it did not take a genius to work out that a shooting war had started, deliberately or not.
Flying in perfect formation, McKenzie fumed as he stole glances at the three tiffies attacking below him.
As the formation commenced a turn, something caught his eye and he focussed in on four aircraft skimming along at tree height, heading east and flying over the TeutobergerWald, north of Bad Oeynhausen.
The four American-looking craft seemed to be boring into the attack on his comrades, who were unaware, distracted as they were.
Training took over and the contact sighting was given.
Johnny Hall, the flight leader, immediately organised a dive to the attack and shouted a warning over the radio to the others.
The unidentified aircraft opened fire, a few pieces being visibly knocked off the rearmost Typhoon but missing their enemies vitals who reacted just in time to the warning from above.
Hall was puzzled. “They’re Aircobras. The yanks don’t fly Aircobras anymore!”
Williams, the number two chipped in, his broad Scottish twang delivering a succinct response.
“No, but the fucking Russians do Flight!”
That comment drew a second or two of silence.
“Oh fuck.”
That just about said it all and the three arrowed in, positioning to attack the Aircobras.
Hall opened fire first, missing badly and then jamming his cannon, pulling away from his attack with curses.
However, his target Aircobra, Number 4, had dragged itself violently left when the first shells went past the cockpit, forgetting the bomb still attached and the problems that might have been caused by the thud he heard when attacking the airfield. The bomb’s weight and its effect on aircraft performance combined with the undetected damage to the bottom-most rudder hinge meant that control was suddenly lost when the rudder came apart and the aircraft flipped sideways, condemning plane and pilot to plough at high speed into the TeutobergerWald.
Williams came in second as the surviving Aircobras evaded, going as low as they dared.
Latching onto one enemy plane, he fired three short bursts but achieved only two shell hits with his 20mm. One hit the tail fin and did only superficial damage, the other hit pilot in the back of the head and decapitated him.
The Aircobra lazily lost height and spread itself in pieces through the treetops.
The three ground-attack typhoons, organised and marshalled by Hall from his position above, closed rapidly on the melee.
Turning to fight, the survivors must have known their chances were slim but they did not lack courage.
