by Tom Zola
Engelmann thought that was a big mistake because the forces were just too depleted for that. The 16th Panzer Division only had fifty-five percent of its panzers left, and the heavy tank battalion that had accompanied Engelmann’s platoon to Kursk only had fifteen Tigers left that were fit for service. This situation was typical for many forces assigned to the salient.
Sure, Engelmann could relate to the opposite argument that his battalion commander had again explained to him: Further east, the Russians were on the run. Their commanders had to organize them laboriously all over again to set up proper defense positions. In addition, up until Kastornoye, there would be no more deeply staggered systems of trenches, mine belts and foxholes like the ones the German attackers had had to fight it out with on the north and south of Kursk last week. Another attack certainly wouldn’t result in the same high numbers of casualties.
Therefore von Manstein, Colonel General Paulus, and Field Marshal von Kluge argued that if the Wehrmacht didn’t use the attack momentum right now, that they would give the Russians enough time to organize reserve forces and dig themselves in again. Then a year from now the Wehrmacht would have to plow through twenty miles of defense systems again. But Engelmann didn’t budge: The available forces were too ground down. In his opinion, it would be better if the generals focused on reality rather than on wishful thinking, because at the present time the German Army was obviously not able to do more than storm the Kursk salient. Several Russian armies were still encircled – and though they were surrounded, they were not defeated yet. However, the front line had been straightened out, saving the Germans enormous numbers in men and materiel in the long run. A successful attack leading up to Kastornoye would only produce a salient again in the other direction, thus eating up those savings again.
Yet this attack would take place.
For that precise purpose, right now the strongest units were removed from the weak covering force and mobilized around Kursk; several reserve corps were joining them in order to start the attack the next day at dawn. Panzer Regiment 2 and all the other companies that were more or less clinically dead would provide the cover in the direction of the pocket. That was a lousy life insurance for the attack forces.
Engelmann sighed. Who would listen to a mere lieutenant anyway these days?
He climbed out of his cupola and jumped off the hull onto the soft ground. The sun set slowly, birds sang and insects hummed. At least the animals didn’t participate in the war, they just kept on doing what they had always been doing. The fight for survival, that eternal struggle to eat or be eaten, was won or lost out here in the woods and the fields every day but no one objected to it.
Maybe, Engelmann thought, maybe human beings have to understand that war is not a horrible atrocity but just human nature. Maybe this is just the natural way for human beings to participate in the game of eat or be eaten?
But he quickly rejected such thoughts. Whether it was natural or not, Engelmann wanted this war to finally end and another war never to start again. At least he wished that his daughter would be able to grow up in a world without any wars. He could hear children’s voices in the distance and looked up to see Russian boys roughhousing and splashing each other on the bank of the Seym River.
No, Engelmann didn’t just want a life without any wars for his own daughter. He wanted it for all children. Again he had to sigh; then he turned away. It hurt him to see these children playing by the river, because they reminded him of all the things in his daughter’s life that he was missing out on.
Was she crawling already? Actually he didn’t know anything about Gudrun, except the things his wife wrote to him. That really hurt.
While the lieutenant was lost in his thoughts, taking in the calm setting, Born scrambled out from under the tank with his book and shook himself like a dog. He walked over to an old pine tree close by and sat down in its shade. He was already engrossed in his book again.
Engelmann approached him and glanced at the cover. Born was still reading The World Set Free.
“And – is it any good?”
Born nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Is it about Martians again?”
Born shook his head and put the book down. “It’s about new bombs with incredible destructive powers that are used during the war.”
“Something like a two-ton bomb?”
”No, these ones are a lot worse. In this book you can eliminate a whole city with just one bomb. They’re called atomic bombs.”
Engelmann smiled warmly. “Well, in that case we can be glad that things like that just exist in books, can’t we?”
North of Kursk, Soviet Union, May 11th, 1943
Heeresgruppe Mitte – One kilometer north of Kursk
All that commotion for this hick town? Sergeant Berning thought when his unit reached the rather rural northern outskirts of Kursk. With over 100 000 inhabitants – at least before the war – the city was anything but a hick town and also had a sizable industrial park, but 1st Reconnaissance Squadron of Schnelle Abteilung 253 had only reached the peripheries of the city and started to move slowly towards the center, following the road in long columns. One could see a few separate buildings – most of them homes with black roofs – to the left and right of the street. Between the houses there were fields, trees, and paddocks for farm animals. From here one could not see the downtown area of the city yet. A few holes in the walls of the buildings, and cartridge cases littering the sides of the road, hinted at the moderate combat activities that had taken place around Kursk in the last few days. In one spot, a large pool of blood had even trickled into the pavement.
Yet Berning barely noticed his surroundings because he couldn’t shake off what had happened while defending the hill ridge near Olchovatka. At night he dreamed of Bongartz standing on the side of a soccer field, watching one of his team’s games, or he was haunted by cruel accusations that even led to a court-martial. He could see Pappendorf, Bongartz, who had turned blue in the face, and Hege, all of whom were summoned to court to testify in detail about Sergeant Berning’s ineptitude and incompetence. In that dream, Field Marshal von Manstein personally proclaimed the sentence. The high-ranking officer rendered a guilty verdict, accusing Berning of not being a good Kamerad, of failure to render assistance, of cowardice in the face of the enemy and the inability to lead his soldiers, while in the courtroom his father─ the proud postal official from Austria ─ his ailing mother and Gretel lowered their heads in shame. After the trial Berning’s shoulder boards had been torn off, he had been forced to wear a Soviet uniform, and he was put in a Russian POW camp, where he had to dig anti-tank ditches until the end of the war. Berning felt that he didn’t fit in. Everyone here had shown him more than once that he didn’t belong in this army – or even in this world.
Pappendorf circled around his platoon like a satellite once again. By now it had shrunk to an eerily small number. No more than nine men plus the sergeant had survived Operation Citadel. The same held true for the Schnelle Abteilung 253 as it did for any other unit: Companies had turned into platoons, platoons had shrunk to squads, and most of the original squads had completely fallen apart. At least the battalion wouldn’t have to move on for the time being. For the next few days, maybe even weeks, they would be able to take a rest in the area of Kursk.
“Unteroffizier Berning!”, Pappendorf yelled. 2nd Platoon would probably never rest as long as that staff sergeant was still breathing. Berning ran over to his platoon leader, stopped and pushed the helmet back up that had slid down into his face.
“Here, Herr Unterfeldwebel.”
“We’ll be reaching our designation in five hundred yards. Go to the HQ platoon leader, inquire about our operation zone, take up position there and gather the platoon.”
“Yes, Herr Unterfeldwebel. Five hundred ahead, inquire about operation zone, gather platoon.”
“Move it, Sergeant!”
Berning started to move, passing first the tip of the platoon and then the men of 1st Plat
oon. Again and again, his stahlhelm slid down into his face, and again and again he had to push it back up. Each time it happened, his rage grew.
Why me again? He kept thinking. Dammit, any grunt can do this for a change! Why’s he always picking on me?
Obsessing about these thoughts, he passed more comrades with sooty faces who were trudging up the street.
Sergeant Berning had enough. More than enough.
Plakhino, Soviet Union, May 12th, 1943
Kursk Front “inside the pocket“ – 30 kilometers west of Kursk
The day had gradually turned into evening when Colonel General Sidorenko finished giving orders to his army commanders. The highest-ranking Russian officers in the pocket west of Kursk, all with stern expressions on their faces, had gathered around him, but now they nodded in agreement, murmuring “Da”. They had a tough job ahead of them, but the commanders actually had to admit that Sidorenko – despite all doubts they had had about him in the beginning – had not only developed an outstanding combat plan but also managed to organize and carry out major retreat movements of whole formations in the middle of the battles of Olchovatka and Prokhorovka without the Germans noticing it. Now the fascists were about to concentrate the pitiful remains of their military forces in order to chase the fleeing Red Army into the hinterlands. What they left behind to protect Kursk and the eastern front line of the pocket was a ridiculous bunch of exhausted soldiers with damaged equipment. To believe that hostile troops inside a pocket were beaten the moment the encirclement was closed, truly fit into the theory of German arrogance.
“Pah! Woobrashayuc ’hii sbrod!“ Sidorenko spit it out loudly after having sent the commanders back to their companies. Conceited pack of trash! He would teach the Nazis a lesson! There was only one goal left for him in this war: to kill Germans – as many as possible – and then to break through the German defense lines. Sidorenko was already looking forward to the moment when he would finally fight on German soil. Then he would repay the German people for what the fascists had done to his country. An eye for an eye.
If that self-appointed superior race really believed it had the right to occupy his country, well, then he would teach them differently! At the same time he would teach the Stavka not to write off its loyal servant Nikolay Sidorenko so fast.
A German reconnaissance aircraft roared with a steady sound in the sky, but there was a dense roof of leaves between the plane and Sidorenko’s command post. In addition, farmers with their cows were moving in the fields that surrounded him, which made for a perfect camouflage, just as the Russians had spent a great deal of time concealing their attack forces from curious eyes in the past few days.
Turning around again, Sidorenko’s glance fell on the sandbox he had built on the ground – a training principle he had learned from German officers back in Kama. He had to smile. In the sandbox Sidorenko had shown something else, something he had learned from the Germans, too – although recently: the tank wedge. Yes, he still had a few aces up his sleeve, and like any good poker player, he had kept them concealed from his opponents so far.
Birsfelden, Switzerland, May 14th, 1943
To Taylor’s delight, which wasn’t only due to professional reasons, he had spent more time in the past few days with the charming Luise. Since the heartfelt embrace in Belp and her tears about the situation of the Jews in Europe, he had sensed a deeper connection to her that kept him awake at night. Every time he thought of her, especially right before their next date, he felt sharp but wonderful stinging sensations in his stomach. When he was around her, he was filled with a kind of excitement he had never felt before – something totally different from the adrenaline rush in combat. When he was with Luise, he was nervous in a pleasant way to which he was glad to surrender. Yet in those times when he was by himself, he could no longer stop thinking of her.
Then he imagined what their first kiss would feel like, and the first time they would make love, and he hoped that these images wouldn’t just remain wishful thinking. Indeed Luise’s affection for Thomas also seemed to grow steadily; at least he had no other explanation for her even canceling a date with her beloved sister, Stella, on Sunday just to be with him. And every evening of the week, except Wednesday, she had appeared on his doorstep after work. And yes, he had wondered if those were really signs of her affection or if he was simply misinterpreting them. When he was by himself, he mentally played through every scenario possible, and though the result was always satisfactory – namely that he and she would become lovers – there was always this nagging doubt eating away at him. Could it be love? If he was in love, he couldn’t allow himself to acknowledge these feelings but had to focus on his duty; that much was certain. A life together with Luise wouldn’t work anyway because she didn’t even know his real name. He had been thinking a lot about things like that lately but on the days he was with Luise, there was only one thing: her.
Today Luise didn’t have to work, and so they had started out early to explore the city of Basel. After all, Aaron Stern had just recently come to Switzerland and hadn’t seen much of the country yet, while Luise, just like a tour guide, had something to say about every city, every location and every building. Thomas was impressed.
All morning Luise had dragged Taylor through Basel to show him all the attractions of the city: the synagogue of Basel, the Spalen Gate and of course the famous landmark of the city, the cathedral. Yet Taylor also noticed that the Swiss Armed Forces were swarming around in this border town.
For lunch they went to a Swiss restaurant, dipped chunks of bread and potatoes into melted cheese and had beer and wine with their meal. After lunch they drove on to Birsfelden, a sleepy little village on the Birs River that bordered on Basel, to get away from the hectic rush of the city and end the day on a quieter note.
Taylor had to grin because the wine obviously made Luise a little tipsy even though lunch with wine had been quite a while ago. She kept giggling and snorting with laughter at trivialities and teased Thomas at every opportunity. Yet maybe she was just happy?
Now they were getting away from Birsfelden; they strolled across a stone bridge over the river and followed the road into a sprawling forest where they both enjoyed a cigarette and laughed hilariously over and over again.
“I can’t go on,” Luise finally moaned and broke out in laughter. “My feet are killing me.” She dropped into the grass that lined the road and grinned widely. Thomas sat down next to her, and they gazed at each other.
“You should at least make it back to the car,” he said. Their eyes locked while their bodies were already touching. Thomas put his hand around her waist and stroked her gently.
“I bet you’d carry me if I asked you to,” she replied, chewing her lower lip while her gaze sent out an invitation. Their faces came closer together.
“I would carry you anywhere you want me to,” he breathed more than he spoke. Then their lips met. They kissed, passionately and long. Luise moved towards Taylor and wrapped her arms around him. Their bodies kept moving closer together. He could feel the heat of her chest that radiated pleasantly onto his while she pulled him closer. Then their tongues met. Luise closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment. Thomas’s hand kept caressing her waist, then her belly. She moaned with pleasure and didn’t let go of his lips. His hand slowly moved up until it finally touched a soft curve. Luise immediately pushed him away and jumped up.
“What do you think you’re doing, Aaron?” she shrieked.
“I … ” Taylor’s eyes grew wide. He didn’t know what to say.
“I’m not that kind of girl!” she screamed shrilly. She turned around and stalked off.
“Luise!” he called after her but she didn’t react, and one minute later she disappeared behind the bend.
“Damn,” Thomas groaned as he dropped down on the grass. Had he ruined the whole thing?
West of Kursk, Soviet Union, May 16th, 1943
Heeresgruppe Süd – Two kilometers west of Kursk
The attack in
to the depths of the Kursk Oblast and towards Voronezh dragged on. Despite little resistance from the enemy, the Wehrmacht only advanced slowly. The 6th Army didn’t participate in the attack but had been ordered to cover the pocket’s front line in the rear. The formations that were still strong enough, such as the Panzergrenadier Regiments 64 and 79, had been detached from the 6th and assigned to the 2nd Panzer Army, while those formations that were particularly battle-weary, such as Major General Becker’s 253rd Infantry Division, had in return been attached to the 6th Army.
Lieutenant Engelmann hid with his tanks in a small forest section west of the city. The area the regiment was responsible for was located considerably far behind the main combat line; they were intended to serve as “fire fighters” for the whole sector, meaning they had to stay combat-ready in order to engage once the enemy would be on the verge of a breakthrough somewhere. The first sunbeams just touched the ground but gunfire already thundered to the west of them. The men of Schützen-Brigade 16 had been battling massive Russian forces for the past twenty minutes. Engelmann had already put his platoon on alert.
Squinting, he peered out of the commander’s hatch of Elfriede at the area ahead, where lightning-like bolts were sweeping across the sky. The first radio messages didn’t sound good at all; the enemy was obviously getting ready to break out of the pocket. Lieutenant Engelmann prepared himself mentally for the moment when he would receive the command for the counter-attack. Again he felt the uncomfortable excitement that always overtook him when a battle was imminent. He dug a red can out of his chest pocket and put a piece of chocolate in his mouth without moving his eyes from the terrain ahead.
