by Gee, Colin
1332hrs, Thursday, 25th October, 1945, north of Guémar, Alsace.
Infantry from the 409th Rifle Regiment had cleared much of the woods, three kilometres north of Guémar, a handful of snipers lashing out, particularly at the officers, before melting away into the greenery and, all save one, escaping unharmed.
That one had received over two hundred puncture wounds, as the distraught platoon members avenged their dead Lieutenant, shot by the sniper they subsequently wounded, captured and bayoneted to death.
Moving up Route D1083 behind them came the 108th Guards Tank’s, confident and self-assured, their fight so different to that of the 110th.
Elements of the 109th Tanks moved towards Heidolsheim to the east, one battalion moved westwards to secure Châtenois and Kintzheim.
132nd Rifle Corps provided the infantry strength, closely backed up by the 134th Rifle Corps, its fresh divisions being kept in hand, ready for the assault on Colmar. Behind that came the most powerful unit of the 19th Army, namely the 3rd Guards Tank Corps.
The 3rd GTC had already seen some action, and had acquitted itself well. Now, or at least that was how it seemed to the jubilant tankers, the enemy line was nearly broken, and one more push would be enough for the whole front to open up before them.
The reports had been filtering through to the command centre of ‘Normandie’, some routine, some not, and yet more providing vital ticks on the battle plan called ‘Thermopylae’.
Lavalle silently enjoyed his coffee.
It was not yet time.
1425hrs, Thursday, 25th October, 1945, Headquarters of Mobile Group Blagoslavov, Hotel le Manoir, Barr, Alsace.
The sleep had only been brief, and Blagoslavov felt groggy. He pulled his tunic on, doing up the buttons, the aches and pains of such simple tasks making him feel old before his time.
Once he was presentable, he permitted the regimental clerk to bring in the papers for his signature.
Coffee was presented to him as he worked, and that also helped to bring him more into a land of consciousness.
The paperwork complete, Blagoslavov decided to visit his positions facing the Vosges, just to make sure there was no possibility of his command catching a cold.
Plus, as he had just learned, two full companies of engineers from the 12th Engineer-Sapper Brigade had been assigned to sweep the entrances of the passes under his responsibility.
Climbing gingerly out of the Gaz 4x4 he had scrounged for his command vehicle, Blagoslavov took in the sights.
Some of his T34’s and IS-II’s were in hull-down positions, not easily spotted, even from his perspective.
Others were even harder to spot, the only betraying factor being a gun barrel here, a small plume of engine exhaust there.
He made his way over to an engineer officer. The man was using an oil drum as his work desk, recording details of his engineer’s surveys.
He was startled by the appearance of the tank unit’s commanding officer, springing to attention and dropping his pencils in the same rapid movement.
“No ceremony here, Comrade Kapitan. Blagoslavov, 110th Guards Tanks. How is your progress?”
“Comrade PodPolkovnik, Kapitan Esher, 12th Sapper Brigade. We are mapping the enemy minefields now. I have two platoons already working,” he turned the map to share the information, “On the Altenburg road here. The main road is heavily mined; very nasty.”
“Nasty, Comrade Kapitan?”
“Yes Sir. They have booby-trapped mines, placing grenades under them, linking chains of them, mixing types.”
Clearly, the Engineer officer was not content.
“There are mine types there that my men haven’t seen before. It’s all very nasty, Comrade PodPolkovnik.”
Blagoslavov was certainly glad that his normal enemy was a large lump of self-propelled metal, and did not envy the engineer his problems.
“Are you in contact with your unit at Eichoffen, Comrade Kapitan?”
“Yes, Comrade. It is the same for them. They have lost three men on the booby traps already.”
A muddy Lieutenant arrived and saluted both officers casually, his mind clearly on other matters.
“So what have you established, Georgi?”
Junior Lieutenant Georgi Harazan spread his own map out, next to his commanders.
“Very strange, Comrade Kapitan. As you can see, the enemy has sown everything up tight. Lots of problems throughout, until you come to here.”
Blagoslavov leant forward to see what the problem was.
‘Rue D’Altenberg?’
“There are no problems here, Comrade Kapitan.”
“None?”
“That road is open, and there is a free zone at least six metres either side of the roadway, Comrade Kapitan.”
Esher and Blagoslavov exchanged knowing looks.
The tank officer took up the running.
“Comrade Mladshy Leytenant. Are you positive that this road has been left clear by the enemy?”
“Yes Sir, positive. There are no mines, devices, nothing.”
Esher and Blagoslavov spoke at the same time.
“Job tvoyu mat!”
“Mudaks!”
The young Lieutenant was surprised at the reaction his news provoked.
“Get your men ready, Comrade Kapitan. We’ll stop them here,” he tapped the Engineer’s map, “Or there’ll be hell for us all!”
The tank officer ran to his command vehicle and it raced away, the senior officer already shouting into the radio set.
Harazan was confused.
A clipped order brought the radio into life, the Captain issuing brief instructions to his platoon commanders.
Esher had his binoculars out as he spoke, quickly sweeping the Vosges, seeing threat in every shadow.
“Comrade Kapitan. What’s happening?”
The radio dispensed with, Esher spared the junior man a moment.
“Georgi Illiych, if the enemy’s left a gap, it’s not by accident.”
The look on Harazan’s face showed his failure to comprehend the problem.
“The gap is there for a reason, and that can only mean something very bad.”
Now the young officer understood.
“Get back to your men and organise them with the infantry for now. If you can, get some of the lifted mines down on that route. Stay on the net, Comrade.”
The Lieutenant’s reply went unheard.
At the same time as Esher had explained to the confused young man, the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle slotted into place in the ‘Normandie’ headquarters.
Lavalle took a moment’s pause before issuing the expected order to the waiting signallers.
“All units, Spartan, repeat Spartan.”
1501hrs, Thursday, 25th October 1945, the Alsatian Plain.
Unlike Blagoslavov, the Legion observers on the High Vosges above Barr had noted precisely where the tanks had secreted themselves, and the information had already been passed to the waiting artillery, and other units.
On receipt of the codeword ‘Spartan’, Operation Thermopylae swung into action, and the destruction of the 19th Army commenced.
‘Thermopylae’ was a thing of simple beauty, enabled by the Soviet attempt to control Knocke, and the GRU’s belief in his continued support.
That condemned 19th Army to drive on a small frontage into a funnel, one side lined by the Rhine and her tributaries, the other by the imposing Vosges.
Knocke’s information tailored perfectly with Soviet expectations, or so it seemed.
The valleys would be mined, and that proved to be the case.
The valleys would be defended by infantry and anti-tank guns with artillery support, which Soviet patrolling had confirmed.
The Legion units would fall back in front of 19th Army, all the way to Colmar, and had done so at first, the blip at Ebersheim designed to bunch the Soviet formations up and ensure that sufficient time was available to prepare the welcome south of Selestat.
And t
hen, it all went wrong for 19th Army.
Fig #66 - The ambush of Soviet 19th Army, Operation Thermopylae, Alsace.
Mortars flayed the Soviet infantry in the woods, north of Guémar, high explosive filling the air with metal fragments and wood splinters, as airbursts cut down scores of men.
Tanks waiting on Route 1083 found themselves under attack from special tank-hunting teams. Men from ‘Alma’ and Kommando Alsace, experienced with panzerfausts and anti-tank mine, caused huge casualties amongst the waiting 108th Guards Tank Regiment.
Artillery, targeted by observers that had sat patiently on the hill tops, sought out, and neutralised, many of the defensive positions that had been set up to protect the Vosges valleys.
Small groups of volunteers from the ‘Lorraine’ and ‘Aquitaine’ Command Groups had remained within Selestat and other places on the main road network, emerging on receipt of the codeword, causing havoc amongst the units that were bunched up on the plain.
Most Allied tanks had lain silent, engines off, the need for secrecy overcoming normal routine. The Legion commanders accepted the risk, balancing cold engines, and the accompanying issues, with the excellent maintenance routine that was put in place as the force lay in wait for the enemy.
The 16th US Armored Brigade flooded out from the Aubach River Valley, and that at Blienschwiller, and overwhelmed the few units posted there.
Pierce was in his element, and he intended to pay the Commies back for the ignominy visited upon his division in the early days of the conflict.
Above the 16th Armored, at Itterswiller and Eichoffen, the larger grouping of ‘Camerone’ hammered into the Soviet screen, overrunning Eichoffen in a matter of minutes.
The bulk of ‘Tannenberg’ emerged from the Lauterbach, and made immediate inroads into the columns of Soviet rear-line troops, laid out before the advancing legionnaires, who found the logistical support units nose to tail on the Alsatian roads.
And then, there was Barr.
1501hrs, Thursday, 25th October 1945, Mobile Group Blagoslavov, Barr, Alsace.
A mix of 75mm and 105mm shells fell around the defenders of Barr, killing and maiming indiscriminately.
Soviet tank crews in their hull down positions, supposedly hidden from the enemy, died in their steel coffins, as superbly targeted artillery shells crashed through tender top armour.
Some tanks were not struck directly, but the constant hammers of concussion were sufficient to kill or incapacitate the crew, and remove the vehicle from the battle.
Kapitan Esher lay silent, unable to speak or move, shock and blood loss already prevailing, the combination condemning him to a lonely death in an Alsatian shell hole.
Junior Lieutenant Harazan had two pieces of shrapnel in his buttocks, but hardly noticed, as he ran back to command his engineer platoon on the road out of the Vosges.
Major Din was screaming into a silent radio, trying to contact anyone, not realising that the fragments that had killed the operator had also destroyed the vital parts of his communications equipment.
Lieutenant Colonel Blagoslavov had alerted his command, and was now calling for reinforcements, unaware that he was not alone in his situation, and that all along the Alsatian Plain, Soviet units were in big trouble.
As with all the valley exits, it was essential to Legion planning, that the counter-attack force secured the non-mined lanes and broke out quickly.
It was only at Barr that this did not go according to plan.
One of the 424th’s surviving anti-tank guns could sight on the exit on the Altenberg, a gun that had not been identified by the spotters on the heights.
The lead Allied tank took a hit that fractured the nearside track, the heavy metal spilling uselessly off its runners. The vehicle, a Tiger I that had once accompanied Wittman into the field in Normandy, attempted to manoeuvre on one track, the expert driver working wonders, gaining room for the following vehicles to pass.
The 88mm gun swivelled, seeking out its tormentor, before the crew realised that death was closer at hand.
Two engineers from Harazan’s platoon leapt up to attack the Tiger, each holding a Haft-Hohlladung magnetic mine, of German origin.
The first man looked in vain for a patch of armour without the anti-magnetic zimmerit paste applied. He circled the stationary leviathan and found a bare patch on the rear engine compartment, but was cut down by machine-gun fire before he could stick it to the Tiger.
The second man circled the other way and struck lucky, a suitable scab of zimmerit missing on the hull side.
Slamming the mine in place, he tripped the igniter and dove for cover.
As often happened in late war German devices, faulty or deliberately sabotaged equipment went wrong, and, although the mine exploded, the premature blast killed the Soviet engineer too.
The tank remained undamaged, and the crew, now aware of the local danger, turned the main turret and hull machine guns, using both to flay likely hiding positions.
A PTRD gunner produced a fluke shot, destroying the barrel of the hull machine-gun, rendering it inoperable.
Four more Tiger tanks moved past their companion, the leader receiving two hits from the 76.2mm anti-tank gun, hits that it shrugged off, the two scars gleaming testament to the ineffectiveness of the Soviet shells.
The next shell to hit the Tiger knocked it out, an IS-II’s 122mm penetrating the thickest armour plate adjacent to the driver’s position.
As the Legion tank did not burn, the IS-II slammed another huge shell into it, this time with more spectacular results. The 122mm hit the same frontal plate, but two foot to the left, causing the plate section between the two areas to disappear into the tank. It did not matter to the crew, who had all perished with the first shot.
The IS-II relocated, before enemy observers hunted it down.
Harazan leapt from his position, intent on retrieving the unused charge, two of his men leaping and running the other way as a distraction.
It worked, and the turret rotated, the gunner ready to fire as soon as the sights came to bear. Both men were seen by other eyes, and they were forced into cover by fire from the armoured infantry that accompanied the Tigers and Panzer IV’s of 5th Legion Regiment du Chars Spéciale.
Junior Lieutenant Harazan dropped out of sight into a gully by the roadside, cover that he now used, scurrying along on all fours, approaching the disabled Tiger unseen.
The 76.2mm anti-tank gun spoke again, its slow rate of fire the result of high-explosive effects upon its crew.
The gun was intact, but the men that served it were the opposite, dead and injured to a man, with only two capable of loading and laying the weapon.
Wiping away the tears of pain, the wounded gunlayer took deliberate aim on the third tank and fired, another track hit disabling the Tiger, reducing further the width of the mine-free trail, down which the 5th and ‘Camerone’ intended to flow.
Back up the road, one Panzer IV breasted a small ridge, and gained a position on the anti-tank weapon, only to be hammered into submission by the 110th’s surviving T34.
The attack was failing, the mines now constricting the Legion force.
The fourth Tiger spotted the IS-II and lashed out, striking the turret, but not penetrating, the huge Soviet tank.
However, the commander dashed his head as the tank rocked, and now lay unconscious on the turret floor. His crew took the opportunity to carry out a hasty withdrawal, in self-reservation, opening up the defence.
The fifth Tiger I had been captured in perfect condition when the Ruhr Pocket surrendered, and had never fired an angry shot. It contained an experienced crew, men once comrades in the 102nd SS Schwere Panzer Abteilung, all captured during the Battle for Hill 112 in Normandy.
The 88m gun cracked, and the Tiger, known as ‘Lohengrin’, began compiling its legend.
An HE shell struck the gun shield of the anti-tank gun, just to the left of where the layer was deliberating on his next shot. He and his comrade died instantly.
‘Lohengrin’ moved forward, the sound of tortured metal reaching the ears of Russian and German alike, as it pushed its way between the dead and disabled tanks to its front.
Blagoslavov found the IS-II backed into a wall and stalled, the crew dragging their insensible commander out of the tank to tend his head wound.
Ensuring the wounded old comrade was placed in the hands of some nearby infantry, the 110th’s commander mounted the IS-II, and ordered it back into battle.
Approaching a blind corner, Blagoslavov dismounted quickly and ran to check.
Hugging the stonework, he risked a quick look, and was horrified to see a Legion Tiger tank bearing down on his position at speed.
He yelled a warning at his own tank, knowing he had no time to get back onboard, a yell that was understood by the gunner.
‘Lohengrin’ rattled across the junction, moving from right to left at full speed. The IS-II gunner fired at a range of forty metres, and missed by nearly as much.
The Tiger kept going, and Blagoslavov watched it move on at least two hundred metres, before it turned left, and into the built-up area.
More noise attracted him, and he turned, immediately spotting a number of enemy tanks following the same route.
This time he could remount and fight the IS-II properly.
Climbing aboard, he ordered the driver to round the corner and cut left, using a wall to mask the hull.
The gunner had recovered from his jitters and destroyed the lead Panzer IV with his second shot.
Shells were returned, but none struck the IS-II, missing by metres in all cases.
The Panzer IV’s scattered.
Harazan shook his head, trying to overcome the blackness that had overtaken him.
One of his own men had thrown a grenade at the Tiger, not knowing his platoon officer was within the burst.
Temporarily stunned, Harazan found his hearing had also been affected; every sound was muffled.
