by Gee, Colin
A few hundred panzerfausts had made the long journey from Europe but most were retained in Soviet hands, as they were a proven and effective anti-tank weapon.
Japanese artillery was limited but now brimmed with guns from 75mm through to 150mm, all healthily supplied with ammunition.
Everything from the German arsenal seemed to have made its way east in varying numbers, and the Chinese Army would struggle to cope and undoubtedly fail when it rolled into the attack.
Diaspora also harnessed the Japanese willingness to die gloriously, as well as abused the trust between allies that tenuously existed in mid-1945.
Soviet freighters and warships did indeed transport large numbers of Japanese who sweltered below decks in hot weather to avoid detection, only emerging at nights.
Such tactics enabled the attacks on Saipan, Okinawa, Eniwetok, and Ulithi to get close and use surprise to be disproportionately successful. At Okinawa, Eniwetok and Ulithi the Soviet ships had transported Kaiten Human Torpedoes and it was these that had gutted the naval forces.
At Eniwetok the light carrier USS Cabot CVL28 had rolled over and sunk, taking most of her hands down with her and the fleet carrier USS Wasp CV18 had also been badly damaged, having stopped off en route for Okinawa from the States after extensive repairs to kamikaze damage. Naval base personnel and supply facilities, especially fuel oils, had been badly handled. One light cruiser and a number of fleet support vessels were at the bottom of the harbour, each with heavy loss of life.
At Ulithi another light carrier, the USS Langley CVL27, received two Kaiten hits and became an instant furnace, incinerating many of her crew and flight personnel before the fires were controlled. She was not lost but would never fight again.
At Okinawa the old battleship, USS Pennsylvania BB38 took a hit in her stern and flooded badly but the old lady survived, being dragged to shallow waters and successfully beached. However, fleet Carrier USS Bennington CV20 and light carrier USS Belleau Wood CVL24 both lacked Pennsylvania’s resilience and were sunk at their moorings, although fortunately in both cases few lives were lost. USS Monterey CVL26 took a direct hit from a Kaiten, which did no more than stove in a plate, as the warhead did not explode. In all cases, the freighters involved also disgorged Japanese naval marines to do grisly work ashore, with orders to kill and destroy until death overtook them, orders that they discharged extremely successfully.
1201 hrs Tuesday 7th August 1945, Heiligenthal, South-West of Lüneberg, Germany.
Allied Forces – B Coy, 1st Btn, 325th Glider Infantry Regiment and Battery A, 320th Glider field Artillery Btn and Elements of 307th Airborne Engineer Btn, all of 82nd US Airborne Division ‘All-American’, directly attached to British 21st Army Group.
Soviet Forces – 49th Guards Rifle Regt and 44th Guards Artillery Regt of 16th Guards Rifle Division of 36th Guards Rifle Corps, and 285th [Independent] Tank Regt and 3rd Btn, 77th Engineer Bridging Brigade, all of 11th Guards Army of 1st Baltic Front.
Corporal Liam D. O’Malley had seen a lot of combat since his first taste at Salerno in 1943. The healthy respect he had developed for the German soldier was now being mirrored by the new enemy.
Courage in the man opposite can be admired, and O’Malley had seen plenty of it that morning.
In front of his position lay the dead of two attempts to force a crossing over the Hasenburger Mühlenbach, a tributary of the Ilmenau River that protected the route around the south of Luneberg.
He and his squad were positioned on the northwest bank of the Hasenburger in a kink in the river that protect their flanks but gave them a lovely field of fire all the way to the woods as well as covering the main vehicular approach from the south-west.
Soviet infantry had emerged from the woods on both sides of that track and made a rapid assault on the bridge, falling in their scores in the first failed attempt.
Falling back quickly, they took root in the tree line, from where accurate fire was brought down upon the defending glider infantry.
The new company commander had designated the old watermill as his CP but was soon flushed out by accurate Soviet mortar fire as the building, already damaged from the fighting in April 1945, received more hits and started to burn fiercely.
‘Well,’ thought O’Malley, ‘The sarge had tried to tell him.’
Artillery fire had not been brought to bear on the strong position, something each and every man was grateful for, although their gain was C Company’s loss as a rain of Soviet shells fell upon them in their positions within Oedeme to the northeast.
The second assault, supported by a full company of Soviet mortars, had failed equally miserably but only because of the timely intervention of 105mm’s from 320th Artillery. With great skill, the 320th‘s Artillery Liaison officer dropped his shells as close as thirty yards in front of the defenders positions. One young Pfc was presently on his way to the aid station bleeding and close to death, having been struck on the head by a portion of a Soviet rifle butt blasted in his direction as the assault was stopped in a sea of shrapnel and high explosives.
The few men who struggled through were quickly disposed of and those fortunate enough to regain the woods prayed their thanks to a god few believed in.
Ammunition limitations prevented the Artillery Lieutenant from advising his battery commander to drop more artillery on the woods, but that did not stop a few 60mm mortar shells being tossed over to keep the Soviets on their toes.
The last rush had been over an hour previous and, as O’Malley figured, the damn Russkie’s were not going to go away, so they were definitely planning something more involved and undoubtedly more dangerous to him and his pals.
Captain [Acting Major] Vladimir Deniken swore loudly. The orderly was trying to be gentle but the shrapnel tear in his arm hurt like hell and her ministrations agitated the wound.
His 3rd Battalion had been badly handled in the assault on the bridge and he hated having his hands tied. Artillery would be such a help but orders were orders. A reinforcement company from 2nd/49th Regt was on its way to give him more men to achieve the rapid success required by his regimental commander.
In addition, having explained the tactical problem, the Colonel had promised tank support and it was the approach of these assets that first penetrated Deniken’s veil of pain as the orderly finished up her work.
Thanking the woman, he walked back through the woods to a tight bend on the road where his reserve company was mustered [A], and where the newly arrived T34’s growled gently at ease under the canopy of trees. As the Captain approached the tank unit’s commander he was greeted by the sight of an infantry unit doubling across the open field in his direction.
Assigning his Starshina to direct the new troops to a rest position off to the west, he briefed his own leaders as well as the new infantry officers and the tank commanders, using a stick of chalk to draw a map on the glacis of the first tank.
The proposition was simple. Regiment wanted the bridge intact and there was to be no firing on it. American paratroopers were dug in all along the far bank, and had already destroyed the flimsy crossing point to the south-west.
Fig#11
Deniken drew the roads, river, woods, and bridge. Adding his recollection of the American positions, he drew back from his handiwork to form a tactical plan.
To be honest, he thought, there is little opportunity for finesse here, but the tanks will help.
“Comrades, nothing complicated here.”
An appraisal of the map confirmed that.
“These are good troops here. American paratroopers who know how to fight. I have lost a full company so far and they haven’t moved one bit. So don’t believe everything you have been told about easily walking over the allies.”
There were a couple of haws but it was not really a joking matter.
“There are no mines but they do have artillery support which is very accurate, so we must close with them quickly, no stopping to engage from safe distance.”
The othe
rs were all experienced officers and NCO’s and understood perfectly. Men would die.
“We have found two small boats, which I will use to get a platoon across the river here,” he tapped his finger on the glacis plate, south of the bridge where the trees met the water [B].
“That is our best chance of getting men on the other side. I will have another platoon in reserve if the boats can be used to reinforce but they are flimsy craft comrades.”
What he left unsaid was that they were flimsy craft that would likely be riddled with bullets by the enemy on the opposite bank.
“I can’t support them with mortars as my main plan is to drop a smoke screen on the positions north and south of the bridge,” his hands described the dropping areas, the pain in his arm reminding him of the price of failure.
“I will position my heavy machine guns here [C] to bring fire upon the defenders south of the bridge, with Grabin’s remaining men as a reserve force[D],” the position he indicted in the wood line already contained spots of his blood from his soaked sleeve.
“My main force [E] will be gathered here”, indicating the woods to the east of the bridge as he spoke, “And we will focus all our attention on swimming across on the bend of the river here [F]”, he smudged the chalk on the point of O’Malley’s foxhole position.
“That may seem a long way to move my troops but, from what I can see, it’s better screened from fire out of Heiligenthal than south of the bridge.”
He indicated the newly arrived company commander.
“Your men will accompany the tanks in their dash up the road, straight for and over the bridge, dropping off men at the bridge and check for charges immediately, the others establishing a position here in the village facing front. Release at least one platoon to return to the river to take any defenders left in the rear where I am attacking.”
The infantry and tank leaders had exchanged looks and grimaced at the nature of their orders.
Deniken continued.
“Yours is not an easy task comrades,” he smiled, “But then today there are no easy tasks.”
Pressing on quickly, Deniken selected the mortar officer, detailing the fire pattern, and where to switch fire to once the bridge had been crossed, but stressing the importance of dropping the smoke ON the enemy positions and switching fire precisely at the right moment.
“The tanks will be concealed at first, no further forward than here [G], and will remain so until Leytenant Grabin”, he nodded at the hard-bitten old officer in whom he was entrusting so much, “Fires a green flare, which will be when my assault has commenced and made the river line, or earlier if something unexpected occurs. Your tanks will then swiftly move up to this line [H],” he chopped a palm across the drawing, “And briefly take the bank south of the bridge and the mill under direct fire, as much to announce yourselves and confuse the enemy as anything. That should be without risk as I have seen no anti-tank guns, but move fast once you have fired a few rounds. There is no shortage of their infantry tank killing weapons plus I don’t want you caught in a barrage.”
The tank commanders nodded their understanding, never having heard of or seen a bazooka but retaining painful memories of what a panzerfaust could do to a tank.
“What I want here is far too much happening for the defenders to respond to properly, lots of noise and lots of firing.”
“Bravo Deniken,” accompanied by a slow handclap.
The Regimental Commander and his entourage had arrived silently and caught most of the brief. Everyone stiffened to attention as the four officers strode into the heart of the briefing.
“Good plan Comrade Captain.”
Deniken saluted and the rest followed suit.
“Comrade Colonel, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Well, we are stalled everywhere by these damned Amerikanisti and you are furthest west so it falls to you to lead the army, so I came to support you as needed.”
Deniken also knew that the more sinister purpose was to relive him on the spot if the assault failed for a third time.
“Indeed, Comrade Colonel.”
He resumed the final part of his brief.
“Reserve formations will be committed as required, either on my command or the initiative of the Reserve commander.”
He took in Grabin with another look and he always trusted what he saw.
“Heavy machine gun troops to move up as soon as the defenders have been moved off the river line. Support my group, the boat group and defend the bridge from any counter-attack.”
Addressing the badly scarred Engineer officer, Deniken sought a loan of equipment.
“Comrade Major, if you could let me borrow some spare rubber boats from you then I can put more men across south of the river.”
The Major and the Regimental Commander exchanged looks.
“Unfortunately I have no spares Comrade Captain. I have sent my spares to the 134th to cover equipment losses.”
There was no more to be said.
He looked at his watch.
“Synchronise now, at 1215 on my mark,” noting everyman, including his commander ready with their watches, “3,2,1, mark.”
“Mortars and support machine-guns will start firing smoke at 1258, infantry will attack with the boats at 1300, I will commence the main infantry attack at 1305, tanks to roll on green flare from Grabin. Questions?”
The Regimental Commander spoke once the silence had confirmed everyone knew the plan and their part in it.
“Comrades, I must stress that the bridge must fall into our hands intact. I have men from the Army engineer unit here”, he indicated the scar faced Major of engineers who looked stonily at Deniken. Nods were exchanged.
“They have bridging equipment but I would rather not use it. Understand me comrades?”
They understood perfectly. The man who permitted the bridge to be brought down would not survive the day.
And with that thought, the orders group dismissed and the preparations for the attack got underway.
Divisional artillery was still pounding away at Oedeme for all it was worth but the area around Heiligenthal was relatively quiet until two LA-5’s fighters, one smoking badly, flew low over the bridge heading southeast.
Some enthusiastic machine-gunner sent stream of tracer skywards, narrowly missing the wounded bird. The wingman lazily pulled off his guarding position and conducted one quick strafe run of machine gun and cannon fire before returning to babysit his damaged companion back to their base.
Two men were hit by the strafing run, and both were killed, as aircraft cannon shells tend to be hard on the human body.
One was the young machine gunner who had climbed on the jeep and sent .50cal rounds skyward. The other was the airborne units senior Non-com, the hard-bitten old Sergeant, who had run to the boy to drag him off the gun, determined to beast him for attracting such unwanted attention.
The Sergeant had been with the unit since it was formed and had seen O’Malley and his comrades through many tough scrapes, pulling them through with his skill and courage. Once the consuming fire of the burning jeep had abated O’Malley promised himself he would bury Master Sergeant Thompson properly and mark his grave. It was the least that could be done.
Disturbed at the loss of the unit’s senior man, O’Malley drew a camel from his pack and lit it, even though 1 o’clock chow time was approaching. The rich smoke wafted around him as he crouched in his foxhole, wondering who would give the mess call now that Thompson was in bits.
His thoughts were disturbed by distant coughing, not from the throats of men, but rather distinctly, from mortars.
All around his position shells exploded, bathing the river and foxholes in choking smoke. No one needed to be told what was happening.
Machine gun fire could also be heard, but they were visiting their brand of hurt on someone else so O’Malley kept his head up for now.
The wind was very low and so the smoke stayed pretty much where it was laid, occasionally waftin
g one way or another as a small gust pushed it around.
Steadying his BAR into his shoulder, he checked around him to make sure his section were up and alert, ready to do their jobs when the moment came. The BAR was not his normal weapon but the squad needed the firepower and as its previous owner was back in the aid station having been clipped by a bullet in the second attack, O’Malley took the job.
More firing started, this time in the background.
A scream came from one of the men stationed just north of the bridge as he was struck directly between the shoulder blades by a smoke round. The unlucky man had bent over to pick up his helmet, dislodged by the previous round to arrive. He was dead before anyone could move to his assistance, spine smashed, lungs, and heart wrecked and bloody, the light smoke gently discharging from the unexploded shell making the corpse a particularly ghoulish sight.
To O’Malley’s left a carbine stuttered and he turned to chastise his man. The wind wafted the smoke and created an arched clear zone in which Soviet soldiers could be seen running hard straight at his position, holding wood, looted inner tubes, anything that would float.
No orders were needed and bullets reached out, dropping many at the full run.
The man next to O’Malley’s right side grunted and slithered down lifelessly into his foxhole as a bullet effortlessly blew the back of his head off and sent his helmet careening off to the rear.
The smoke closed in again just as the Soviets reached the water’s edge but there was no respite in the fire from the defenders, firing blind, killing and wounding the unseen enemy to their front.
O’Malley saw the flare reach its zenith before the smoke, moved by another breeze, engulfed his position completely.
Deniken grimaced as he ran, noting the bad luck as the smoke parted. His men were going down under accurate fire and there was little he could do except press forward with them.
Pausing to shoulder his rifle, he fired a shot and was rewarded with a helmet flipping away and the enemy dropping into his hole.
