Stalemate (The Red Gambit Series) (33 page)

The IS-II
caught fire.

The flames spread, feasting on the free fuel vapour from the two ruptured tanks, greedily moving on to find welcoming diesel fuel in all directions.

Burning fuel dropped around the tree stump.

“What the hell?”

Mearns pushed and scrabbled, his limited strength of no use against the inexorable downward pressure of the tank on the tree truck.

He exerted his strength, dug with his good hand, pushed wit
h his good leg, all to no avail, all the time growing weaker.

More burning fuel dropped around him, catching his trousers alight

In a moment of clarity, he had a last rational thought.

‘I don’t
deserve to die like this!’

And then the moment was gone, and Master Sergeant Winchester Mearns became a mental wreck, howling and screaming his last few moments away.

Inside the tank, Antonov knew what lay in store.

As he reached around to his side, his thoughts turned to his wife and his three fine sons.

The heat was unbearable and he did not prolong the moment unnecessarily.

The barrel of the Tokarev was against
the side of his forehead, the act of pulling the trigger granting him one final second of life.

‘I don’t want to die like this!’

The sound of the shot was lost on Mearns, his legs engulfed in flames, his animal panic having robbed him of every vestige of humanity.

The sounds of his screams were truly awful, and rose above most sounds of the battle.

Across the river, a young man’s mind found resolve and his Garand put a bullet into the suffering man.

Pfc Oberon Reynolds dropped the rifle from his shoulder.

‘You were right Sarge, you were right. No-one deserves to die like that.’

The M36 tank destroyers died within a second of each other, their tender rears fatally exposed to the new arrivals.

To the north, Allied forces had repulsed a
Soviet attack aimed at Tettnang, so Berzarin had sent a considerable force southwards to help out on the Argen River, ready to turn westwards and undercut Tettnang.

It was this battlegroup, e
lements of the 11th Tank Corps, which now took to the field, surprising the US defenders on the hillock, codenamed ‘Chetvyerg’ by the now-dead Antonov.

Communications between the two attacking groups was non-existent, but both exhibited excellent control and restraint,
with no friendly casualties resulting in their coming together on the west bank of the Argen.

T34’s of the 65th Tank Brigade supported by motorized infantry from the 12th [Mot
orized] Rifle Brigade hammered into the rear of the US positions, sweeping all before them.

From the
height, they were able to control all of the area west of the Argen through which the American forces had to withdraw.

The
Soviet tanks knocked out vehicle after vehicle, aided by the survivors of Antonov’s force.

One anti-tank gun was repositioned
, and managed single shot before it was trashed by a wave of HE from the 65th’s armour.

On the Argen, the
Soviet engineers finally managed to push through the booby-traps and barbed wire, achieving the 7776 bridge.

The assault elements of the 2nd Company 185th Guards pushed over the other bridge at the same time.

The final phase of the US defensive plan was to destroy both of these bridges, and the surviving NCO of the 305th US Engineers discharged his responsibilities, electronically detonating first the nearest bridge carrying Route 467, then that carrying Route 7776 to the north.

The lead
platoon of the 185th Guards was killed outright. First, the soldiers were thrown skywards, as the huge charge propelled body and the 467 bridge into the air. The jumbled mass of men and concrete fell back, either to earth or water, and none survived.

The shock wave claimed more casualties from both sides, the US troops unable to
fall back as planned because of the arrival of the northern force.

The delay in switching to the second bridge circuit gave the
Soviet sappers hope for survival, hope that died with them, as a second huge charge brought about a repeat performance.

The 116th Engineers did have inflatable boats at the rear, but command and control was shot to pieces
, so they remained there, unused.

Soviet
mortars, freed by the loss of the bridges, brought down a furious attack on the defensive positions, pinning the US infantrymen in their shallow scrapes in the ground, or killing them with blast and shrapnel.

Some men tried to move away down the river line
, but they were seen by the survivors of Antonov’s tank unit, who enjoyed the turkey shoot, mowing down the defenceless men as they struggled in the water.

There was no escape, and hands started to rise
, as first, individuals, and then groups, surrendered.

Hardegen’s unit pulled back successfully, crossing over the Argen at Oberdorf
, and marrying up with their covering infantry force from the 53rd.

The military situation dictated that they had to withdraw
again, and the composite unit withdrew further back to Eriskirch, but not before Hardegen had called in a priority mission on the intact bridges around Oberdorf.

As he settled into the new line at Eriskirch, fighter-bombers of the USAAF took out both bridges, losing three aircraft in the process.

Positioning his tanks to defend the river crossing, west of Eriskirch, Major John Hardegen was frustrated to find no supply vehicles waiting to replenish his low stocks of ammunition and fuel.

Taking time out to eat the rations cooked up by his crew, Hardegen reflected on the day.

‘Some damn good boys died today.’

Task Force Hardegen had
certainly lost some good men, but it was intact, although depleted. The 53rd Infantry had lost a handful of doughs, the 37th Tanks left four of their vehicles on the field, whereas 25th Cavalry had escaped casualties. Their positions, covering the rear of Hardegen’s force, had not been tested. The relatively fresh unit was presently out providing a security screen, whilst the rest of his task force rested.

Task Force Butcher was a different story.

There was none of it left as far as he could see, not a single GI had yet reported in; a single half-track or gun found its way to safety.

‘Poor bastards.’

Sure, the Soviet infantry had been given a good hammering, and their armour, particularly the heavy tank unit, had been heavily worked over.

But the enemy held the field, the unsuspected arrivals from the north clinching the victory for them.

A particularly hot piece of beef burnt his tongue, causing him to breathe furiously, bringing cool air to the afflicted area.

The pain brought a new line of thought.

‘I wonder how old Knocke would see today?’

He determined to test the next piece of beef before committing to its consumption.

It was fine, and he chewed as he contemplated his own question.

‘I daresay he would say you’re alive, tomorrow is another day and you will do better next time.’

Hardegen laughed loudly, amused by his own reply.

DeMarco toyed with his meal, the appetite drained from him by the loss of some of his friends. Hardegen’s laugh seemed so out of place to a man grieving for close comrades.

‘Merda! How can you laugh, you heartless bastardo?’

Hardegen caught the gunner’s
look, and immediately knew what the Italian-American was thinking.

Picking up his coffee, he moved over and dropped down beside DeMarco.

They ate together, drank together, smoked together, and spoke of friends they would never see again.

You people are telling me what you think I want to know. I want to know what is actually happening.

Creighton Abrams

Nazarbayeva had timed everything very deliberately, ensuring that she had sufficient time to visit St Basil’s Cathedral, a long cherished ambition.

Never particularly religious
, but also not anti, like good communists were supposed to be, the splendour of the domes gripped her, and the incredible interior transported her with its beauty.

The fact that she was in the uniform of
Soviet Military Intelligence guaranteed that she would enjoy it in peace.

After having her fill of the grandeur, the GRU Colonel strode purposefully across Red Square, through security
, and into the hallowed halls, for her 10am meeting with the GKO.

She sat outside the conference room, her eyes drawn to the huge ornate clock, ticking away
with a steady and heavy beat, just as the radio propaganda clock did at Stalingrad. Her mind was suddenly transported back to those desperate times,
‘tick-tock, tick-tock, another German dead.’

10:23.

It was unusual for all meeting times not to run to order.

‘Is there something wrong?’

The door opened, and a stern-faced NKVD Major-General she did not recognize, demanded her presence.

On entering the room, she was momentarily surprised to find the entire GKO seated around the huge table, all expectantly looking directly at her.

The door closed noisily behind her, stiffening her resolve.

Stalin rose from a small separate desk and moved to the prime position, sa
t between Bulganin and Molotov.

“Comrade
Polkovnik Nazarbayeva, our apologies, but other matters have had to take precedence this morning. May I offer you my condolences for the loss of your son.”

Beria remained transfixed by the report in front of him, a small curl in his lip the only sign of his inner thoughts.

“Thank you, Comrade General Secretary.”

More than one
pair of eyes swiveled to examine their leader’s face, desperate to find some reason for his uncharacteristic apology and concern.

They found none.

Extending his hand, Stalin invited the GRU Colonel to begin.

Nazarbayeva had been kept waiting because the GKO had been looking at a report from the Far East, in which Vasilevsky detailed reverses
, both to his own and Japanese forces, in northern and southern China respectively.

They were already chastened
, and had no need for more bad news.

Which was unfortunate.

“Comrade General Secretary, Comrades, a GRU asset within the Royal Air Force has informed us that the targeting of Allied airpower resources has now firmly changed to our support and supply assets, based on their interpretation and intelligence gained, regarding a definite supply issue for the Red Army.”

More than one of the old men slumped in his chair.

“This has been the case for a few days now, and the results are wiping out the improvements made since the issues of supply were first highlighted.”

Nazarbayeva handed over a report
containing estimates on losses in reinforcements and supplies.

Stalin slid it across to Bulganin, who deftly deposited it in front of Beria.

The rest of the GKO watched the balding NKVD supremo closely as he quickly scanned the figures and gave the briefest of nods.

‘They knew?’

“Your figures tally with those supplied by Comrades Beria and Kaganovich. However, the reason behind this has now become clearer. Continue Comrade.”

“Comrades, the situation will not improve and GRU expects the attacks to grow in frequency and strength.”

There was an expectant silence, and one that also carried all the dangers of telling great men that their plans were failing.

“Allied air power is growing. Their factories are producing at full capacity. Efforts
, such as the NKVD sabotage mission at Boeing in Seattle have had no effect.”