by Tom Zola
“Copy that. Follow and position!”
“Keep your eyes and ears open. Get ready to use the MG.”
Nitz was still busy operating the radio, but Loader Eduard Born nodded and then petted the handle of the coaxial machine gun as if he wanted to commit it to the upcoming battle.
Closing the commander’s hatch, Engelmann eased his body behind one of the narrow eye slits. In the meantime his tank drove along a row of trees behind the Russian trenches, moving away from Osërovka again. The other tanks of the platoon followed and in turn were followed by the 2nd platoon with its III’s.
Engelmann pressed his face against the eye slit but he could hardly see anything besides tree trunks and tall grass. He gripped both flaps of his hatch with his right hand but then he paused.
Lord, thou art in heaven ... He asked the Lord for protection, took a deep breath and pushed the hatch open again. Cautiously he stuck his head out over the edge of the protective steel and checked the surroundings. Lumbering, his tank ploughed through the soft soil.
“Careful!” the lieutenant moaned into his throat microphone. “Don’t get stuck, Hans!”
Nodding, Münster looked through his tiny eye slit attentively at the small section of the world it allowed him to see. Chewing on his bottom lip, he accelerated up to twelve miles per hour. The faster they zoomed across the soft ground, the better!
Engelmann kept peering out of his turret at the surrounding area. Apparently they had surprised the enemy after all, because the lieutenant could make out several open military trucks at a single farm; anti-tank mines were sitting on the beds of the vehicles, still wrapped. And two trucks with howitzers already attached were burning near Osërovka.
Did the Russians intend to position a second mine barrier here and pull back their artillery behind the second row? Engelmann didn’t get around to pondering that question because just at that minute a projectile shot past Elfriede, almost touching the tank, sliced the trees next to it in two like matches, and finally exploded far away on the plains. The echo of the round followed in the blink of an eye, booming across Engelmann’s tank. The lieutenant immediately recognized the cloud of smoke that rose from a cluster of bushes on the open plain nearly half a mile ahead.
They’re not bushes at all – that’s another buried T-34! It hit him in a flash. He reacted without hesitation. “Armor-piercing!”, he yelled, and then: “Hans! Drive around that son of a bitch! To the left!”
Engelmann’s panzer turned to the left with a jolt and sped up. The lieutenant held onto the edges of his cupola with both hands while sweat dripped into his eyes. He blinked several times and shook himself.
“Loaded!” rang out from the belly of the tank.
“Three o’clock, seven hundred, buried tank, fire!”
But Elfriede remained silent.
“Where, Sepp?” Ludwig asked instead, staring through the optics of the turret at a wide field covered with shrubs. The lieutenant leaned back in the tank. “That group of bushes, the one that is higher than...” he said with a frantic voice. The T-34 shot a second time. One moment later, behind Engelmann’s platoon a Panzer III went up in flames and came to an abrupt halt.
“Scheisse, shoot, just shoot!” Engelmann raged, and drummed on the edge of his turret with both hands.
Behind him, a machine gun began to saw. Russian soldiers, who apparently had glimpsed a chance to escape between the trees near Osërovka, were taught mercilessly the mistake in their idea. They fell to the ground, screaming, when the MG salvos pierced through them and everything around.
Finally Ludwig fired. There was a loud bang; the whole tank shook, then sparks flew, and the ragged branches that had concealed the T-34 in its pit were peeled off.
“Goddammit, it just swallowed the shell!” Engelmann groaned, wide-eyed. He didn’t even have to order Born to load the next shell; Born did it on his own. Instead he ordered in a harried voice: “Step on it, Hans! We have to get behind that bastard!”
The engine creaked and raced; the tank accelerated to its max. The tracks dug themselves into the soft ground, leaving deep scars in the soil. Simultaneously about 1.2 miles east of Engelmann’s position, the vanguard of II Abteilung broke through the defense belt. Several Panzer III’s rushed onto the open field and tackled the half-buried beast from the other side.
The Russian tankers probably know full well that they’re dead. They just want to take as many as possible along with them, Engelmann thought – not without admiration. The thought of what might happen to him one of these days entered the lieutenant’s mind, but the action around him quickly demanded his full concentration again.
Münster had Elfriede storm out onto the plain – away from the trees near the first defense belt – as fast as the tin can could go. Meinert’s panzer was right behind them.
Again the enemy tank blew out smoke while sending another shell on its way. Engelmann’s fingers cramped up until they started to hurt. He couldn’t make out where the shot had landed but it hadn’t hit anything; nothing else mattered. Meanwhile the noose around the T-34 was getting tighter – Engelmann and Meinert from the left, the Panzer III’s from the right.
Defying death, they raced towards the Russian tank. Due to the III’s 5-centimeter gun, they could only penetrate it in close combat or from behind – a dangerous game. It was as if ants were attacking a stag-beetle. By now the crew of the T-34 also knew where to find the targets that were easier to slay. Its turret slowly turned towards the Panzer III’s. Meinert fired. He missed; the projectile went left.
Oh no! Engelmann groaned silently and rubbed the stinging sweat from his eyes.
“Loaded!” The voice came from inside his tank.
“Fire!” Elfriede shook once more when the main weapon was fired. A hit exactly between the turret and the hull! A dream shot! Again sparks rained over the enemy’s tank and catapulted the branches that served as camouflage up into the air … and again the damned beast just swallowed the projectile.
These goddamn Russians and their goddamn tanks!, Engelmann cursed to himself. He felt like crying. The enemy was not only clearly superior in numbers but also some areas of technology. They had already surrounded the hostile tank halfway and their next shot would be fired at its tail, where its protection was the weakest. Yet now Lieutenant Engelmann noticed that their hit had had an effect after all. The turret of the T-34 didn’t turn any further and the barrel suddenly pointed diagonally at the ground. The turret was jammed! At the same time the III’s had reached the disabled tank. The Russian crew already knew what was coming. All the hatches of the T-34 sprang open almost simultaneously, but it was too late. From less than 200 yards distance the Panzer III nearest to the wounded beast put a shell into it under the turret, aiming from a slanted right angle, so that only burning flames instead of men jumped out of the hatches.
Engelmann slumped down in relief. There was still fire behind them but it was just here and there. The first defense belt had been broken. The command tank, which had stayed near Osërovka with the 3rd platoon, attacking Russian reconnaissance tanks, was now driving onto the open plain at a distance of a mile, now in Engelmann’s view.
Then the company’s commanding officer directed via radio: “First trench taken. We’ll catch up with the heavy tank battalion right away. 1st Platoon will take the lead.”
*
The Tigers had already crashed the Soviets’ second defense belt, and had challenged them at several points to find the perfect spot for a breakthrough. Here the Russian trenches were concealed by tall grass between small groups of hills, and strewn with fresh craters from the German artillery shells. Stuka’s dominated the sky and dove farther ahead down to the ground, where they devastated enemy tanks with bombs or on-board cannons. Engelmann’s units came to a halt at some distance behind the Tigers. Again the iron cats of prey were supposed to break through the defense as part of the wedge-shaped tank formation while the lighter panzers remained in their wake.
Up ahead be
tween the hills, trails of black smoke rose up into the air – everywhere where there had been once an anti-tank gun position or a buried tank. Still, the defense was even fiercer here. The enemy artillery now started to focus on the Tigers, and enveloped them in waves of soil. A massive belt of anti-tank guns was still firing away full blast. The Russian shells tore glowing scars into the outer layer of the armor of the Tigers, but the Russians would need a whole truckload of good luck to disable that kind of monster from a distance of more than half a mile. Groaning, the German panzer beasts swallowed one hit after another without showing any signs of slowing down while thinning out the Russian defenders in the trenches with each shot.
Engelmann looked to the right where the tank forces of the 6th Army were rolling forward all the way to the horizon. Far behind them, the troops of the infantry and Panzergrenadiers followed; they had just reached the first defense ring and were clearing it at that very moment. Engelmann bit his tongue. The wedge-shaped formation they were driving in here contained the great risk of getting too far away from the following troops during the attack, thus the risk of becoming isolated by enemy counter-thrusts against the rear guard increased. But on the other hand, a fast attack was necessary, or else they would give the Russians too much time to move their reserves to the Kursk salient. The first radio messages about the general situation indicated, however, a rather sobering picture of things in the south so far, and that was what gave Engelmann a headache. He had realized from the beginning that it would be a tall order, but part of him had still hoped they could change the outcome of the war here in the Kursk salient. Yet he also knew that there was nothing else he could do but continue and give it his best shot. He had no influence on what happened at the other sections of the front line, anyway.
Parts of the right flank had already been left behind early in the afternoon. The XI Armee Korps of the Armee Abteilung Kempf had gotten into heavy defensive fire while crossing the Donets, and was now stuck on the east bank of the river. While the center of the attack was supposed to slash its way through to the Seym River via Prokhorovka, following it to Kursk in the form of the 6th Army’s mechanized forces, it was the job of Kempf’s formation to push through Rshavez and Korotshka to Skorodnoye to seal off the salient to the east against Soviet counter-attacks. If they failed to seal it off, the right flank of the 6th Army would be exposed, which could become rather unpleasant. Engelmann frowned. He didn’t like it when his fate depended so much on other people, but that was just how it was when you were a soldier. The only hope he had was that the plan would succeed as a whole.
Unexpectedly one of the Tigers stopped in the area ahead with a loud bang. A shell had hit its bogey wheels, and now the tracks were dissolving. The other tanks continued to let their guns do the talking, turning the Russian trenches into one single wall of fire and smoke. Looking through his field glasses, Engelmann could make out fleeing soldiers, and then three Russian airplanes showed up. They came roaring in from the northeast, flew once over the battlefield in a wide curve, and turned around. They were targeting the Tigers! The flaks were already firing behind Engelmann’s back, but the versatile Ilyushin Il-2 “Shturmovik” were too fast and agile for them. They rolled over and flew loops while being enveloped in bouquets of exploding flak shells. They had definitely come to hunt for the Tigers; yet Engelmann also didn’t feel comfortable standing immobile on the plain while the dive bombers were around.
“Eiserner Gustav in the sky! Hans! Start the engine and follow the heavy battalion at a medium distance!”
“Yep, Sepp,” Münster’s voice rang out in Engelmann’s headset. Then Elfriede’s engine came audibly alive. The tank immediately started to move, and the rest of the platoon followed.
Several German fighter planes suddenly appeared in the air over the battlefield and took up hunting. Screeching, the Shturmoviks switched to nosedives. Rockets were ejected from under their wings and pulled long contrails after them while heading for a group of Tigers. The on-board cannons of the planes added a dash of 23-millimeter projectiles to the assorted rockets. The bullets from the aircraft guns didn’t faze the Tigers. They bounced off, sparks flew, and then they scattered in all directions. A well-aimed rocket, however, could be deadly. Long columns of soil shot straight up into the air when the rockets hit the ground and exploded, but one Tiger also took a hit. Black smoke enveloped the steel monster. The tracks stopped and the beast ground to a screeching halt. Then the tank burst into flames.
Once the planes had gained more height again, the German fighters were already on their tails and started the dogfight. Only seconds later a burning Il-2 crashed on the ground. It came down in a grove and went up in flames in an enormous explosion that exterminated the surrounding trees.
In the meantime the Tigers had finished firing at the second Russian defense belt and started to roll out again in order to break through the line. Engelmann took a glance at his map. Behind the cluster of hills, they would come to more open fields before reaching the road to Prokhorovka.
“Always stay close to the Tigers.” Engelmann said it more to himself than to his men.
Münster accelerated the tank to 13 miles per hour while the tracks toiled through the soft soil. The Tigers farthest ahead were already disappearing between the hills and behind the columns of smoke. Engelmann’s panzer now passed the tank with the loose tracks that still stood in one spot without moving and had to wait for the Panzergrenadiers and infantry soldiers who were advancing. Then they passed the burning tank. Engelmann could feel the heat that blew towards his tank, and had to look away. Despite the planes in the sky, the thundering sound of the artillery, the deafening clatter of the engines, and the screeching of the tracks it was as if he could almost hear – more like a feeling rather than a clearly defined sound – the screams of the men burning inside the iron juggernaut. Of course that was impossible and of course the soldiers in that panzer were already dead by now, but every time when Engelmann was on the battlefield, he got this feeling. He had heard the screams of crews imprisoned in flames several times before – first they were loud, strong and blood-curdling; then they became weaker and weaker until the sounds died – and with them the soldiers. That was the most gruesome thing Engelmann had ever experienced. He desperately hoped that, should he ever be hit by a shell, the explosion would kill him instantly and he wouldn’t fry in agony in his tank. In addition to the flames, it was the heat that was any tank crew member’s worst enemy. The sun was still beating down mercilessly on the battlefields close to Kursk and was partly responsible for the fact that the temperature in Engelmann’s tank had risen to more than 120 degrees F. Every member of his crew was soaking in his own sweat, moaning under the nearly inhuman conditions.
Finally the panzers of the III Abteilung reached the defense belt that had been blasted wide open.
“Ebbe, keep your eyes peeled!” Engelmann ordered. “Fire at enemy infantry forces!”
“Copy that.”
“Hans, full speed ahead. I want to get behind the trenches as soon as possible!”
Engelmann was firmly convinced that Russian infantry soldiers were still lying in hiding between the burning tanks and destroyed anti-tank guns. Yet they wouldn’t show themselves, but instead would pit themselves against the forces that followed without tanks. A sense of doom made him sick to his stomach and he felt the urge to disappear into the protective belly of his tank immediately, but he forced himself to stay outside above the cupola. He needed a clear view now more than ever, and the value of his own sense of hearing on the battlefield shouldn’t be underestimated, either. Though Engelmann’s ears already hurt and were ringing from the day’s battles, he didn’t want to stuff cotton balls into his ears the way some of the other soldiers did. Then he might as well go back inside his tank, cover his ears with his hands and sing loudly.
The III Abteilung passed through the second Russian defense belt without any incidents and then caught up with the Tigers, as they crossed a deep plain scattered with
a few farms and groves. Again the tall grass covered the enormous tanks up to their turrets, but the relentless tracks ground their way through the thicket. Now they came to a dense forest on the right flank; it divided this section of the front line from that of the II Abteilung, which from now on, as expected, had to make its way to the road that led to Prokhorovka without a heavy tank wedge shielding them. A few miles farther north the forest ended - or at least became considerably less dense - and once again turned into small hills that were covered with shrubs. The road was somewhere beyond them, and the forces would reunite there. Engelmann grinned. At least they actually seemed to have accomplished that day’s operational goal.
But the Russians were not defeated yet, and they demonstrated that fact in an emphatic manner because up north, where the hills started, two T-34’s suddenly stormed onto the open plains and immediately started to fire. Without air or ground support, the two tanks once again showed the Russian fighters’ high degree of willingness to make sacrifices, that had often given the Germans a tough time. The armor-piercing shells exploded between the Tigers and directed their attention to the Russian tanks. The heavy panzers turned and adjusted their main guns.
Engelmann, who once again could feel relatively safe in the wake of the heavy tank battalion and thereby became a mere observer of the battle, trembled when he saw the two T-34’s. Squinting, he witnessed the fate of the vehicles that shone in the sun; they looked like pyramids with gun barrels.
Two T-34’s against almost 30 Tigers, he reflected; and nodded respectfully at his Russian tank comrades, that’s as if Germany would fight a war against England, France, the Commonwealth States, the U.S.A. and Russia all at the same time ... Whoa, wait a minute! Ha ha ha. Geez, we’re fucked! A desperate grin tucked at the corners of Engelmann’s lips in the face of his own gallows humor while the Russian tanks were shot to pieces in the area ahead. Then he froze. The Russian soldiers hadn’t sacrificed themselves in vain because just then dozens of black dots appeared on the northwest horizon, rushing straight ahead towards the backs of the Tigers. An AP projectile suddenly penetrated one of the German panzers and killed every soul inside it. Now the others realized that they had been lured into an ambush, and started to turn around.
