Bob Carruthers - Tiger Command!

Not surprisingly, with Knispel on the team, the gunnery tests had given the Henschel design the clear lead, but today was to be a speed trial, and mechanical reliability was what was required. They had been taken through the four kilometre course, with a number of nasty twists and bends.

As they climbed back inside the Möbelpackwagen for what could be the last time, the first thing, as always, that struck all of them was the space compared to the cramped interior of the Mark IV; it was a veritable cathedral, it was wonderful! It was amazing even with 100 Acht-acht rounds aboard!

Bobby Junge sat down in his seat and ran his hand along the various controls, levers and switches. It was heart-breaking to have come so close, but even Bobby Junge with his rally driving skills could not perform miracles. They could possibly beat the Porsche, but they could never hope to beat the Krupp. The Mark IV had been given a slight handicap and would not start until both Mark VI prototypes had covered 500 metres, but it was certain to finish the course first.

Junge was now back in rally mode. As soon as the signal was given they started off. The two heavy tank prototypes seemed to have the measure of each other, but then the Porsche model began to pull away.

“What’s wrong, Junge?” asked von Schroif.

“I can only get her up to twenty-five, sir, and she’s starting to heat up.”

Von Schroif and Michael grimaced as they watched the Porsche prototype edge ahead.

“She’s doing nearly thirty,” added Bobby.

The test was only a short four kilometre speed test, two kilometres out and two kilometres back, and it looked like it was soon to be all over. The Henschel machine was destined to be still-born, and with it, the whole of the Mark VI project.

However, as they started to reach the turn, von Schroif could see the deficiency in the other tank; it lumbered and slowed when it had to make the turn. The Henschel on the other hand completed the turn in what seemed like half the time and space and actually came out ahead! So this is what Arnholdt meant! The regenerative steering final drive gearbox, that’s what gave it its manoeuvrability!

“Well done, Bobby Junge!” cheered Michael Knispel, who for once was really along for the ride, but he seemed to have spoken too soon as the Porsche came out of its turn and started to catch them and finally overtook them. The one thing the Porsche did have was an amazing turn of speed.

“Junge, give her everything, we’re on the final straight!”

The Mark IV had not yet made up enough ground and it suddenly looked as if they might do it.

“Right, Junge”, said von Schroif, “let’s show the world what she can do!”

“There’s nothing left and she’s getting hotter. If I don’t slow her down, the engine is going to melt!”

Junge’s words came like a dagger to the heart, but from his experience at the front, von Schroif knew to trust Junge’s judgement. There was no point in countermanding him, so he came to the only decision he could.

They came towards the brow of the final hill, watching the Mark IV as it gradually pulled level. They reached the brow neck and neck with the Porsche and were about to charge down the final slope together when there came an almighty bang and the Porsche stopped dead in its tracks, a cloud of smoke issuing from the engine deck.

“Slow her down, Junge,” ordered von Schroif.

“It’s worse than that, sir. We’re going to have to stop now, or no one will be able to drive this bus again.”

With a heavy heart, von Schroif gave the order. With only 350 metres downhill to the finishing line, the Henschel came to a halt, perched on the brow of the steep hill.

Von Schroif could see the Mark IV pull past the finish line, then turn broadside on before the victorious crew members piled out and went to meet the dignitaries. The nodding of heads and smiles told their own story; they signalled general agreement among the chiefs of staff and dignitaries. The consensus was that they would move ahead with the Mark IV. He hung his head when he saw the disappointment on Kurt Arnold’s face. He felt that he had let him down.

As the Mark IV crew reached the dignitaries, a ripple of applause reached the dispirited men sitting despondently inside the Henschel. Behind them there was even greater disappointment for the Porsche crew, who were now fighting a small fire in the engine compartment. The crew sat dejectedly in their places, listening to the sound of the rapidly cooling engine.

Eventually Bobby Junge broke the long silence. “That wasn’t a fair fight. There’s much more to this machine than running around a damn rally track.”

“Damn right!” said Michael Knispel. “With this bus we could have overrun every anti-tank gun in Russia… Now what?”

“I assume its back to tin cans again. At least we’ll have the new Kampfwagenkanone,” said Wohl, glumly accepting the result.

“Yes, indeed, but that’s no consolation,” thought Von Schroif. “The Acht-acht is what is really needed.” It just wasn’t a fair fight, and that irked him.

Knispel was now warming to his theme. “If only we could have had an overrun test… the very mass of this beast is a real weapon. Junge could crush T-34s and save Reichminister Speer the ammunition,” said Knispel in obvious frustration.

Suddenly, a very dark thought dawned on von Schroif. “Knispel, you’re right.”

“Thank you, Hauptsturmführer, but, right or not, we have to give up now.”

“We’re not giving up that easily,” said von Schroif. There is still one part of the test to go…”

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Junge.

“Prepare for overrun attack!”

As the Mark IV crew lined up for photographs with the Führer and his entourage, and the flash bulbs popped, a Propaganda Kompanie crew appeared and a film camera turned over as they began to interview the successful crew.

Von Schroif could hear a fresh round of applause for the victors and it felt like a knife cutting into him once more. He took a deep breath. Hitler was not only the chancellor, but head of the German armed forces. What he was about to do was the biggest risk of his career and the supreme commander may well have a different opinion. This was going to be an unspoken dialogue between two military men about what was best for the German soldier.

“Is the engine cool enough, Junge?” asked von Schroif.

“Just about,” replied Bobby. “It’s downhill. We are not going to be running now, we are going skiing!”

“Can we do it, Wendorff?” barked von Schroif.

“What can you get her up to, Junge?” asked Wendorff.

“On this slope, probably forty kilometres per hour…”

“So what do you think, Wendorff?” asked von Schroif impatiently.

“Well, the math is simple. Forty multiplied by sixty tonnes… yes, that should do it.”

“Alright, I order we do it… If we fail, it’s a punishment battalion. This could go spectacularly wrong. Anyone who is not needed for the demonstration must now dismount and leave with his honour intact.”

There was no movement.

“Knispel, Wendorff, Wohl… I order you to dismount.”

Nobody moved.

“That’s an order,” said von Schroif solemnly.

Still nobody moved.

Finally, Wendorff spoke. “There seems to be a problem with the intercom, sir. We can’t hear you.”

“As you wish, gentlemen… Start her up, Junge.”

The noise of the Maybach engine being revved up halted the conversation in the Führer’s entourage. All eyes turned towards the heavy panzer perched at the top of the hill. Suddenly it lurched forward and began to pick up more and more speed as Bobby Junge expertly ran through the gears. The group watched in puzzled silence as the heavy panzer sped towards the Mark IV. Gasps of consternation were emitted as the realisation dawned that there was about to be a collision. The Henschel was now speeding down the slope. Inside the speeding tank, all eyes were on the Mark IV, which they were fast approaching.