Bob Carruthers - Tiger Command!

“Twelve o’clock,” shouted von Schroif, referring to the original order.

Now made well aware that his manoeuvre had left them side-on and track-exposed to a potentially deadly piece of Soviet artillery, Junge knew exactly what to do. “Knispel!” he shouted, and spun the tank around, taking into account which angle the barrel was at, and the previous position of the Soviet artillery.

From years of fighting and training together, Knispel knew exactly what Junge was about to do. This was going to require the utmost precision… Through his sights he could see the tank spin around through 90 degrees, saw the artillery piece come into view, and then let loose… A split second later, the high-explosive round caused a massive explosion, followed by a ball of fire which consumed man and machine. Quickly refocusing, he could see no immediate movement, save for the sickening sight of a Soviet gunner staggering into the distance, his entire body aflame. Knispel looked away, not through disgust, but simple expediency. Years of experience had taught him this one brutal lesson… this is war and war is hell.

“I am sorry, SS-Hauptsturmführer,” Junge said to von Schroif.

“The fault is mine, SS-Panzerschütze Junge. My order should have been clearer. You did well.”

Von Schroif chided himself. Any ambiguity in commands came from him, and was his responsibility. He could not, with any clear conscience, blame his crew if the target, as in this case, had not been made explicit. Anyway, even if Junge had been at fault, he had taken it upon himself to remedy the situation. No more could be asked.

Hans von Schroif then opened the hatch to reevaluate the situation. Ivan held the high ground, but his artillery had proved ineffectual at that distance. But did he have any tanks? Would he wait until dark before sending any infantry in?

Von Schroif then considered his own situation. Three tanks down. Isolated. Should he evacuate the crews and return with reinforcements and recovery vehicles? That would be like handing the Tigers over to the Soviets without a fight. Should they stay and consolidate? For all the mechanical problems these new tanks were exhibiting, they had proved themselves in terms of their defensive and armour capabilities. There was only one real option. They would stay and see off whatever Ivan could throw at them! Rubbal and the Famos would soon find him!

So how was he going to organise this consolidation? His plan was simple. Tow the Tiger behind him over to the two other Tigers, spin the other two around until they were facing the hill to their right flank, and then hull-down and wait for Ivan! The idea appealed to von Schroif, particularly for its simplicity, but there was one problem. Regulations prohibited the towing of one Tiger by another, due to potential overheating of the towing Tiger’s engine, which could lead to breakdown or fire.

To von Schroif there was a higher principle though◦– Mission Command, or Aufstragstaktik. This tactical freedom, enshrined in the German Army since the previous century, allowed the commander on the ground◦– within his overall objective◦– the freedom to improvise to a degree unrecognisable in nearly any other army. This, reasoned von Schroif, gave him the freedom to break this particular regulation and proceed with his objective.

Suddenly liberated from his previous dilemma, he felt a personal pleasure any commander or leader would recognise, having come up with a solution to a seemingly intractable problem. It was warm and affirmative and allowed the freedom to concentrate fully on the newly-decided strategy. One remaining piece of the new strategy needed attention though◦– were there any remaining artillery pieces in or close to the hamlet? And was it capable of being reinforced?

“Wendorff, order the grenadier captain to send in troops to flush out the hamlet of any remaining enemy resistance. We also require some scouts up on the hill on our right flank.”

Von Schroif then ordered the other tank commanders to prepare for towing. Emerging into the cool evening air, he could see, off to his right, the two crews also emerge. Then he heard a crack and saw one of his tankers slump forward.

“Snipers! Wendorff, relay!”

As Wendorff passed on von Schroif’s message, von Schroif himself reflected on the first time he had come across this tactic. Soviet snipers in orchard trees on the long dusty road to Leningrad, staying behind at supreme personal sacrifice in order to pick off commanders like himself, who preferred not to be buttoned up inside their tanks.

“Knispel! Find that damned rifle of yours!”

“Wendorff! Tell the grenadiers they have a third mission! Snipers in the trees at the foot of the hill.”

As soon as he had barked out these new orders, von Schroif reconsidered the situation. Plan A◦– towing the immediate Tiger into a hull-down defensive position near the other two Tigers and then turning them so that their flanks were 90 degrees to the hill was now impossible, with their crews pinned down. Plan B◦– wait for the grenadiers to clear the snipers, tree by tree, but did he have time for this? Plan C◦– lay down covering fire and send Knispel in on a hunting expedition. But could he risk losing his gunner at this juncture? Plan D, plan D… Come up with a plan D! But plan D was too horrible to contemplate… Plan D would not be his plan, it would be the Soviet plan◦– blow up the Tigers and get out of there…

Then, as if on cue, up on the hill, the sound and fury of dust, engines and smoke…

“Enemy! 4,000 metres on our right flank! Junge, get as close to our other two Tigers as possible!”

The tank spun around. “God forbid it isn’t our turn to have engine trouble,” thought von Schroif to himself. He quickly calculate one advantage of which they could avail themselves◦– the terrain. The Soviet tanks would be unable to advance en masse through the trees; they would have to split up into small groups. He then made a mental note to search for any tracks or trails leading out of the sloping forest that could lead to bottlenecks where they might concentrate their fire.

His first task was to take care of the snipers though. He had, as a matter of urgent necessity, to get his crews back into their tanks and get them firing!

“Wohl, reload with high-explosive.”

“Wendorff, radio ahead to the tanks and tell those that are outside to remain under cover until after the third incendiary.”

“Knispel, aim for the rocky outcrop one hundred metres from the base of the hill. Three shells, fifty metres apart, starting at one o’clock.”

The plan was audacious, but von Schroif could see no other option. He had to get those crews in their tanks before they were overrun!

“Fire!”

The first shell streaked out of the throat of the barrel, traversing its distance in almost a straight line, before smashing against the rocks at the base of the hill and sending a spray of rock and lethal shrapnel shredding through the tops of the trees directly in front of it. Knispel had no time to check if it had been effective in its task. Wohl had already loaded the next shell.

“Fire!” came the order, just as Knispel had shifted the required aim 50 metres to the right.

Another deadly spray of shrapnel ripped through the tops of the next group of trees.

“Fire!”

The third shell crashed into the rock at almost exactly its allotted slot.

Von Schroif peered through the dust and flame, trying to hold himself steady as the Tiger sped across the soft Russian terrain, and was filled with joy at the sight of four lifeless bodies cradled in the leafless branches, and to see the stranded crewmembers jump back into the relative safety of their vehicles. “Now Ivan has a fight on his hands!” he exclaimed, as he watched both Tigers swing their barrels to point at the onrushing enemy.