Bob Carruthers - Tiger Command!

The fact that no fighters were on Walter Lehmann’s tail, or had appeared over his horizon, had nothing whatsoever to do with providence, fate, or the good lady some men call luck. Nor was it an accident. On the contrary, it was a very well formed design, quite simply the result of a decision made in the mind of a single man◦– Admiral Wilhelm Canaris. If, as seen from his own point of view, Walter Lehmann considered himself blessed and favoured, from another point of view, that of Canaris, he was simply fat, bungling and stupid. Muffled and cocooned in a cotton wool ball of self-delusion and outrageous complacency.

How could Walter Lehmann think that he could show up at Templehof, commandeer an airplane, and fly off without thinking that his every move was being tracked, logged and second-guessed? Canaris knew this turn of events had saved him some trouble. No need to worry about what Lehmann may say in the chamber. The tracks of this operation would be so well covered if all went to plan that they wouldn’t even lead to Lehmann’s corpse. Yes, Lehmann’s very existence was in the hands of a higher power, just not the one he had so much faith in…

Oberstleutnant i.G. Borgmann had been kept informed as to Walter Lehmann’s movements by Admiral Canaris, since his arrival at Templehof. Lehmann had tried his best to blend in with the crowds of soldiers coming and going. His papers allowed him to travel as SS-Obersturmführer Luther, and he was wearing the black panzer uniform which confirmed his identity. Borgmann could have had him arrested easily, but his orders were explicit◦– allow Lehmann and Korsak, aka Wilhelm Stenner, to rendezvous and eliminate both. He had also been given the tools, the codes and frequencies with which to listen in on their communications.

With Lehmann and Stenner gone, all traces between him, Canaris, and the Tiger project would be erased. How right he had been to trust in Canaris! The only slight worry Borgmann had was von Schroif. The way the Tiger commander had looked at him on the Führer’s birthday had suggested a man with a suspicion. A man with suspicion alone is no great threat, but combine a man with suspicion and an ongoing operation whose ends are not yet fully in harness, and certain difficulties could arise. Much better a man with no suspicion. Better still a man with trust, complete trust. Then it came to him. The perfect plan.

Leaving the assembly area, the battle group moved slowly, following von Schroif’s previous route until Major List and his units left and split the group in two. Von Schroif, his senses now at their fullest state of alertness, studied the landscape for the smallest movement. Everything seemed as it was. Even the dead lay undisturbed, save for the flies or rats. To von Schroif, this meant nothing. He had absolutely no doubt that the immediate surroundings harboured an, as yet, unseen threat, and that their every move was being scrutinised and evaluated. He sensed they would strike, but when would they strike, and from where?

In the middle distance he could see the three abandoned Tigers, exactly as they had been left. This did not surprise him. The aim of the Soviets, surely, was to capture these machines intact, for study and evaluation. The best way for them to do this was to secure the ground around them. He was also sure that this plan would have to fit in with the overall objectives of this part of the front, but even though he believed the Soviets intended to capture the Tigers intact as part of a wider operation and therefore would not have elected to destroy them, this did not mean for one minute that he did not think the Soviets might have sent out teams to tamper with them. With this in mind, he had warned all crews to check for booby traps◦– those damn F1 grenades!◦– and also for degradation of their ammunition stocks.

Drawing closer to the Tigers, he elected to approach the two which were closest to the hill where the last Soviet attack had emanated from. Then he noticed something. One of the T-34s, charred and abandoned, its hull still in the same position… its turret had moved.

Von Schroif, if he had been nearly any other commander, may have spent a brief moment congratulating himself on his acuity of vision and his ability to memorise battlefields before, during and after conflicts, but that was not his way, and he was already weighing up in his own mind how best to react to this new information.

How big was the threat? It was too far away to present a significant threat for now, and any other burnt-out hulks were even further away, but if they proceeded further and the tank crews and repair teams were out in the open, then the magnitude of the threat would rise dramatically. What to do? Should he take them all out and reveal his presence, or send in some grenadiers to investigate? In little or no time he came to a decision.

He was certain that the Soviets were already aware of his presence, so there was no advantage to give away. Consequently, there was no need to endanger the lives of any German personnel. Von Schroif then relayed the target’s position, Knispel lined it up, and the quiet morning air reverberated with the massive explosion which ripped through the stationary T-34. Von Schroif immediately felt a vindication of sorts, and a brief sense of satisfaction, when he saw one man emerge from the inferno, pulling on a comrade who emerged head, then shoulder, then chest, then nothing but bloody mangled pulp. He did not linger on this horror though.

In the course of an almost-mechanical few minutes he had moved in turn to each of the remaining suspicious targets and dispatched all of them to any metallic heaven or hell that may exist. Once he was satisfied that the area had been cleared, he moved the column up and took a forward position between the two stricken Tigers and the hill to the east of them. Behind them he could see the support teams, helped by the Tiger crews, carrying tools. Elements of the rest of the force formed a perimeter around them.

Von Schroif then returned his gaze to the hill, trying to peer between the trees and the undergrowth, searching again for movement, change, disturbance, but saw nothing, not even the flight of birds or the movement of small animals. Then, from nowhere, the unmistakable sound of artillery, what sounded like a massive barrage on the other side of the hill.

Then Wendorff, who had been listening intently to his radio, passed on some alarming news. “SS-Hauptsturmführer. Major List is under attack… outnumbered, huge force… artillery… T-34s… and… he’s breaking up… monsters…”

“Monsters?” replied von Schroif.

“I’ve lost him, sir… hold on… monsters, monsters… KV-1’s, sir.”

Von Schroif knew it was now imperative to get the Tigers, if not up and running, towed back to the supply area as quickly as possible. If neither of these two objectives were achievable, then the next best tactic would be to get the crews back in and buttoned down and prepared for what von Schroif considered an impending attack. He then felt a tug on his leg and looked down to see Wendorff motioning him back down into the tank.

“SS-Hauptsturmführer,” whispered the radio operator, “I don’t know if this is pertinent or not, but a few minutes ago I picked up the same kind of transmission as I did at Rostov, the one that gave away our position and strength. I did not mention it at the time, as I was unable to decode it, but then this came through from Oberstleutnant Borgmann at HQ.” At which point Wendorff handed von Schroif a piece of paper containing a new order.

“Proceed to coordinates. Detain. Wait for further orders. Highest priority.”

Von Schroif rolled his eyes in anger and frustration. “Borgmann? That oaf again! Did he have any idea of the situation they were currently in? What in God’s name is this all about! What was Borgmann’s game? Could he be trusted? Was there more to this than bungling idiocy?”