[SUBMISSION from Heinrich505]
Note: Heinrich505's submission originally included pictures, but I am unable to embed them. Also, this is part one of a five part AAR. Feel fee to post the rest of the AAR in another thread, Heinrich!
AAR HSG KC Lt Oberloskamp PART I
March should not be so damned cold, but here we are, middle of Russia. Of course it is cold, thinks Hpt Griess. He is freezing, and inside a building. Imagine how his men feel, out in the cold, in shallow foxholes gouged out of the frozen earth. One thing is certain. This God-forsaken village – what is the name again, Dyuki – is hardly worth the blood of his soldiers. And yet, they are here, ordered to hold so that others can retreat from what HQ refers to as a developing pocket and the “straightening of the lines.” Oh yes, he thinks bitterly. Straightening the lines simply means giving up hard won territory, purchased with the blood of young German soldiers. Such a deceptively clean phrase.
A call from his Second brings him up cold. Word is relayed back from Lt Laumann’s position. Engines heard, probably tanks. He has ordered no firing of purple flares. He wants to catch Ivan by surprise. The Russians know what those flares mean, and he doesn’t want them to become cautious. Several tank hunter teams are assigned, and he means to give them an advantage.
Far off to the right, Lt Fischer calms his men. Don’t fire until they are close, he has told them. We have an infantry gun, so we’ll try to keep them at a distance, but when we open fire, it will be concentrated and overlapping, he tells his troops. Being the junior officer, half of his men are green replacements, due to the double killer of Russian soldiers and the Russian winter. He surmises that he was assigned the infantry gun to bolster his weak unit. Perhaps we won’t catch the brunt of any assault, he thinks hopefully.
To his left is Lt Bott. Bott has most of the veterans. He and Laumann have constantly petitioned Hpt Griess for consolidating the veterans and regulars. They have been successful. Hence, Fisher has the new guys, and the infantry gun.
To the far left flank is Lt Schmalturm, with their AT gun and mainly veterans. He is guarding the main approaches from the road that will surely bring the Russians. He was not happy to be so far from the action, but in their briefing, the Hauptmann assured him there would be plenty of action to go around.
In the fall back, is Lt Balaban, who commands one of their precious MGs, along with a covering AT gun. Balaban is the Hauptmann’s favorite, as they have shared a lot of combat together. After him, there is no stopping the Russians.
Griess has been promised reinforcements if things get “too hot.” He also wonders where that phrase comes from. How can anything be “Too Hot” in this bloody freezer? he wonders. “More information,” he orders. Moments later the reply. “Herr Hauptmann, Leutnant Laumann’s troops report light armor and tank riders. Infantry in unknown strength further behind, possibly flanking to our right.”
“Alert Bott and Fischer,” he orders. Light armor, eh, he thinks. If the men report that, it must really be light. They usually confuse all Russian tanks and fearfully report T-34s. Perhaps we will be lucky this time, he thinks. He can hope.
Sounds of gunfire and the infantry gun opening up on the right flank carry with the cold Russian wind. “Never mind,” says Griess. “They already know.”
“Herr Hauptmann, more tanks, now reporting T-34s and riders,” calls his Second, Lt Marks. “Yes, that figures,” he sighs wearily. Too good to be true, no T-34s.
Laumann has the front row seat. He hisses commands to his men in a low voice. He has been there before, so they listen. The only one firing will be the MG, he orders. Perhaps they can snap the arrogant Soviet tank commander with a quick burst. More tanks are coming down the road, and things look bad, as usual. As the light tank comes into the line of sight, Laumann gives the command, and a spray of MG bullets tear up the commander’s cupola. The Red tanker disappears from sight quickly, and the tank halts abruptly. Maybe that got him, thinks Laumann. Still plenty more behind him though.
On the right flank, Lt Fischer’s hopes are quietly dashed, as out of the trees comes a Soviet pioneer squad. They are particularly feared, as they often have flame throwers and satchel charges. They are usually well trained and highly disciplined, which adds to their lethal qualities. Obg Breuer does not wait for a command to fire from the nearby leutnant. Their first round is right on the Russian squad. “Pour it on,” he encourages his crew. They keep dropping rounds right on the enemy squad.
Leutnant Fischer notes that his men are still holding their fire, waiting for his orders. When the enemy, still advancing into the fire of the gun crew, crosses a line of trees that he earlier marked, noting their optimal range for maximum concentrated fire, he shouts “FIRE!!” and they open up on the unfortunate Russians. As the pioneer squad flees, more Soviet infantry appear in the woods. Fischer is already worried about being over-run.
Hauptmann Griess is getting many reports now. A whole column of Soviet tanks are approaching. He looks behind and sees Obg Winnings getting his AT gun crew ready. Lt Laumann reports at least 5 T-34 tanks with riders, and two light tanks. One light tank is not moving, and he thinks they killed or wounded the commander.
With a roar, Winnings’ gun crew opens up. AT shells scream past Laumann’s position, and one smacks into the motionless light tank. This gets them moving, as the enemy backs up rapidly. Laumann watches as a second light tank tears past his positions, not close enough to close assault. A T-34 is rumbling closer, with riders on the rear deck. Pokorny sprays the light tank with his MG, but it doesn’t slow down, rushing the corner of the road. Laumann hopes the men he detailed to cover the road approach will take care of that one.
His immediate threat is the giant T-34, lumbering just out of range. He plans to order Pokorny to fire on the riders, but Pokorny swivels his MG to the right, and opens fire on enemy infantry that is flanking past them on the right.
Obg Winnings is elated with his gun crew. He watched as their second round tore into the light enemy tank. Unfortunately that tank was not killed, and backed away fast. A second light tank tears past their line of sight too fast for tracking, but moments later, a giant T-34 rolls into their view. Winnings smacks his gunner on the back, ordering him to line up on the T-34. “Already on it, Obergefreiter,” he is told. Seconds later the gun recoils in the snow and Winnings sees it is a ricochet off the front turret. “You are on, just hit him in the wrong spot,” he announces. More rounds rip from the barrel of his gun.
The T-34 disappears from view, but then reappears between a gap in the trees. “There he is,” shouts Winnings, and the gun roars again. Suddenly Winnings is on the ground, stunned. His crew is strewn around beside him, the gun barrel canted downwards crazily. What the hell? he wonders, hearing cries of pain from his crew. He shakes the snow from his eyes, and then realizes his gun has been knocked out. “Dammit!” he shouts. “We were just getting the range.”
Further up, Lt Laumann hears the shell come screaming through the trees, and sees a shower of sparks and then smoke from the side of the T-34 turret. “Treffer,” he cries out, to no one in particular. The Red infantry tumble off the enemy tank, and Laumann sees that this enemy tank is knocked out. He wonders why the AT gun has stopped firing though.
Hpt Griess has seen this drama taking place. He too, almost felt the AT gun shell tearing past his building, and sees the slight smoke rising from the broken T-34. A small smile catches the corner of his mouth, but then he sees a light tank tearing into the village at the bend in the road. Several infantrymen are rising from their foxholes to attack it. He remembers the tank assault drills that Laumann was running his platoon through. They better perform quickly, he thinks.
“Herr Hauptmann,” calls his radio man, “Lt Laumann reports that some T-34s look to be turning southeast, to flank us from the woods on the right.” “Just what we need,” says the Hauptmann. “Alert Fischer and Bott.” “Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann,” is the reply.
The Hauptmann curses in anger as he sees the light Russian tank suddenly back off, apparently unharmed. Laumann’s men got some hits, as he saw the sparks flying, but they didn’t kill it. Now it has backed out of danger, and fires at their MG team.
Reports are flying in, all emergencies. Lt Fischer’s men have spotted a T-34, already well into their right flank, which they are trying to engage by using their infantry gun. This probably will not play out well, Griess imagines. Reports are now totaling about 10 of the T-34s, and now they are down one AT gun.
Lt Fischer can hear the engines roaring in the trees, but their visibility is limited. He knows they are in trouble. Suddenly a huge tank crashes through the trees, and turns away from their skirmish line. The driver must have become disoriented and made a left instead of a right, thinks Fischer. Obg Breuer gestures wildly to his crew, and his gunner makes the adjustments. They fire, but the shell hits slightly short, around the treads of the steel beast. A miss, groans Breuer.
Pokorny watches now in amazement as the Russian HQ unit, apparently the riders on the knocked-out T-34, suddenly charge their position. They are taking flanking fire from two light tanks now, one to the left and one to the right, but so far they are okay. Pokorny takes a moment to appreciate the bravery of the Russians, and then gives the order to fire. The MG rounds tear up the snow around the Russian officer and his HQ unit, and then tear into their bodies, spraying red blood into the white snow. They are down and still in moments.
Breuer’s crew reloads in moments. The cold slows them down a little, but a new shell is loaded, as adrenaline is kicking in fast. The Russian driver must have realized his terrible error by now, and as Breuer shouts for his crew to fire, the gunner hits the trigger, sending another round away. This time it is a hit. Several loaders shout “Treffer,” and the T-34 staggers, the round tearing apart the rear engine compartment. The tank slews to a halt, smoking. “You are not done yet!” roars Breuer. “No one has bailed out.” His gunner has barely re-adjusted the sights when he hears the breech slammed shut. He hits the trigger again, and the gun roars, flames spouting from the barrel.
Another hit, sees Breuer. Before they can celebrate, all hit the ground as a Soviet machine gun opens up on their position, rounds tearing up the snow and dirt. Fischer sees the hit, as the round tears into the rear turret and explodes. The tank is done.
Hauptmann Griess watches as the Soviet light tank fires in the direction of Obg Pokorny. He waves madly at his tank hunters, just across the street in a crater. Obg Weisberg gives the “Understood” signal, punches his partner, Schutz Voll, in the arm, and announces “Now we earn our pay, Franz. Let’s go!”
Weisberg is on his feet in a flash, and Voll is right behind him. They dash hell-bent-for-leather towards the church, hoping to get there un-noticed. Griess watches with clenched fists, almost willing the men safely forward. He sees the Russian tank spin on its tracks, and start charging up the road again, heading into the town. “Dammit, Watch Out!” he calls, not realizing the tank hunters are too far away to hear him.
The Russian tankers are a gutsy lot, as they race past two pickets, where they take rifle grenade hits, but are not slowed down. The driver slews his nimble beast hard left, and races behind the German positions, planning to cut them down from the rear. Lt Laumann orders his HQ to fire at the tank, as the rest of his platoon are busy firing at a wall of Red infantry that is charging from the road. Laumann is close to despair, not having any anti-tank weapons to stop the Russian tankers. The enemy tank halts in the lee of the church, and begins to fire at Laumann’s squads from the rear. Things are going bad very quickly.
Weisberg and Voll dash through a side door of the church, wet boots pounding on the wooden floor. They catch a glimpse of an enemy tank through the windows, and without missing a beat they both pound up the stairs to the second floor. The Russian tank commander thought he saw something, and begins to rotate the turret, but then changes his mind. It must be nothing, he tells himself, focusing on the rear of the German positions.
Weisberg and Voll crash to the floor near an upstairs window, blood pounding through their veins, roaring in their ears. They are breathing in painful gasps now, but adrenaline is kicking in. They recover in moments, hiding just long enough for the enemy tank to look elsewhere. As they hear the Russian 4.5 cm gun open fire, they creep to the sill, finding their target directly below them. The Russians are completely unaware of the imminent peril they are in. Weisberg pulls the arming cord, leans out the window, and then gently releases the magnetic mine, directly onto the enemy tank. It couldn’t be easier. There is a terrific blast, and the Russian tank is torn open.
Lt Laumann cannot believe his eyes. Just when they were about to be over-run from the rear, he sees an object fall – or was it dropped? – from the upper floor of the church. Then the enemy tank is ripped by a terrific explosion. “Tank hunters!” he exclaims to his HQ unit, as the only possibility comes clearly to him. “Fire on the crew,” he orders, seeing only one man leap the tank. The terrified tank survivor tries to crawl into the woods for cover, but the fire from Laumann’s HQ seeks him out and then he is motionless. Meanwhile, Russian infantry rushes towards his position. There are just too many of them, Laumann thinks.
