Bob Carruthers - Tiger Command!

A wry smile appeared on the loader’s face.

The arriving train passed slowly, its passenger cars first, followed by the flat SSyms wagons. These were interspersed with normal railcars to ensure that the weight of the machines was spread evenly along the length of the train, as bridges were not certain to take the weight of the Tigers. In order to avoid the possibility of a collapse, great care had to be taken when loading.

Hans von Schroif had done his homework. He was keen to compete against the other crews to see who could load their Tiger the fastest. This was healthy competition; the kind of sport that could save lives one day.

The Ladermeister called forth the first of the crews, in readiness for the platform truck being shunted up to the ramp. Once secured, the loading vehicle towed the narrow transport tracks off the wagon and positioned them in parallel on the ground. The first Tiger crew then removed one of their tank’s wide tracks and drove the tank onto one of the thinner, transport tracks. Using the sprocket hub as a capstan, they then hauled the upper run of the track into position using a wire rope.

While this was being done, Hans watched, whilst timing, the second part of the operation◦– removing the Tigers other wide track and running the bogies over the remaining transport track.

“So far so good,” thought Hans, “but we can definitely go faster than that.” He did wince slightly though when he cast his mind forward to a time when this methodical operation might have to be carried out in the howling, freezing waste of the Russian Steppe, in a blizzard◦– and under fire…

He was then woken from this nightmare vision by a pink flash off to his right. “Must be a firework. Was there some sort of local celebration tonight?” He dismissed trying to remember being told of such a thing and returned to concentrating on the loading of the first Tiger, paying renewed attention as the crew took off the four outside bogies and waited for the half-track to tow the original, wider tracks to the front of the ramp. In such a position, the newly-tracked Tiger could drive over its old tracks, then carry them underneath by means of two wire ropes which were connected to the two lifting eyes. She was then driven onto the wagon, trailing her old tracks. Finally, once in the correct position, the trailing ends of the original, broader tracks were lifted by wires and pulleys, up and over the rear armour, and it was time for the next tank.

“Quite ingenious and straightforward,” thought Hans to himself, “but surely we can get the time down to under twenty minutes!”

He then looked at the Ladermeister and listened for the next set of instructions, but was immediately distracted by another pink glow off behind the Ladermeister◦– and then it struck him. These weren’t fireworks, these were flares, flares from British pathfinders! And then, if he needed confirmation, he was given it◦– the rising and then falling wail of the air raid sirens.

“How far behind were the bombers? And what was their target?” Hans had little doubt. “The Henschel Engineering Works. We have to get these tanks loaded!”

Hans looked across at the Ladermeister, who seemed to be in a state of confusion. Then came a huge explosion as a British bomb went off, the percussive wave crashing against the train and crews and throwing everyone to the ground.

Dusting himself off, Hans jumped to his feet and made a quick calculation. “If it was a wayward bomb, they still had time to load the tanks and pull out. But what would they be pulling out into? Would they be closer to, or further from, danger? If it wasn’t a wayward bomb, but just the first of the load, then they were all dead anyway.”

So, the conclusion he came to was this: “Load the tanks as quickly as possible, and then make an assessment as to the risks, based on any information at the time.”

However, given all that, he knew, as every commander does, that the decision to release the train was not his to make. All that he knew was that they had to get these Tigers to the front.

“Ladermeister,” he shouted at the still prone Ladermeister, shouting again until he realised that he was shouting at a headless corpse. The poor fellow had been decapitated, probably by flying shrapnel.

Hans quickly took command. “SS-Panzerschütze,” he shouted at Otto Wohl, “inform all crews that normal loading will take too long. Every tank must simultaneously load from the side. Crews are to immediately locate material with which to build ramps!”

Otto acknowledged that he had understood the order and ran to pass it on. Hans then turned to the remaining members of his crew.

“Stones, earth, wood, straw, anything! Let’s get this ramp built!”

Then the first real wave of bombs started to land, tearing up the earth in a deafening cluster of explosions off towards the Henschel works. The crew gathered whatever came to hand and packed it down against the side of the wagon. Otto Wohl returned to help. Hans von Schroif looked down the line and could see all the crews feverishly collecting material for their own ramps.

Hans knew that this approach was fraught with danger, requiring great manoeuvring skill from each driver, the ever-present possibility that, if the procedure was not carried out properly, the weight of the tank could tip the entire wagon over and end in disaster. “Should he order the wagons to be uncoupled? It would take a bit longer, but… Yes, he had to, the alternative was far too risky.”

Again he called Otto over and instructed him to tell all crews to decouple their wagons, make good on the ramps◦– would they all hold?◦– and then, starting with their own Tiger, have the drivers drive the tanks up and on, spin them round into position, tie them down, and then recouple. Otto Wohl could barely hear the shouted order as the intensity of the bombing increased, the ground shook further, and a violent and unnatural gale threw dust and debris all around.

As Otto went off, Hans decided that it would be useless in this maelstrom to issue any kind of spoken order to Bobby Junge, so he motioned with his hands for the driver to prepare the tank for embarkation. He then motioned to Karl to help him uncouple the wagon. On finishing, he motioned Bobby forward, the great iron titan straining and pulling as it rode over the first incline of the ramp, the front hull lifting.

“Just keep on lifting,” prayed Hans von Schroif. “If the ramp collapsed now, God knows how long this would take…”

Looking down the line, Hans could see the next four Tigers, all with their engines running, all slowly approaching their own ramps. Then back to Bobby. Hans was on the wagon now, guiding, he could feel the wagon tilting under him, the weight on one side pulling it down. It was all up to the driver now, all driver skill. Open her up, up, open her up more, and then… crash! The front of the tank came down on the wagon and Bobby engineered a turn on a pfennig to bring her round and into place!

Hans then coupled up the car and went to oversee the rest of the operation. So far, so good, the next tank on safely, then the third, then the fourth. Just the final Tiger to go, followed by the towing vehicle.

Hans was then distracted by a series of explosions at the engineering works, huge explosions which sent flame and twisted metal high into the night sky. Hans couldn’t help thinking of the poor souls◦– was Kurt safe?◦– trapped inside the inferno. “These damn British! What kind of people were they? The Tommy soldiers had a good reputation, but these airmen?”

Hans felt hatred swell up inside of him. He was running pictures through his mind of what he would do if he ever got his hands on one of the terrorists when he heard a familiar jolt next to him. The train was starting to move! His first reaction was to shout, but there was no one to hear him. The engine was too far away.