Peter Idone - Red Vengeance

“Some copse or thicket up ahead. A recon’s going in to investigate.”

Footfalls tapped on the hull above their heads as Naumann and Hofinger climbed aboard and took up battle stations. It was only as a precaution, Hofinger had explained. Pieper struggled out of the snug seat. “I had better make an appearance. I don’t want to be accused of sleeping on the job.”

A thicket or tall grass stood out as a long, dark silhouette against the starred sky. Schroeder estimated the distance at two hundred meters due west. He led a patrol consisting of the escort’s machine gun crew, Detwiler and Ganz.

Angst had crawled up to where Sergeant Lustig lay beside the signalman and waited for the patrol to return or, at worst, provide the signal that indicated a Russian presence. The sound of the assault gun would have given the enemy ample time to prepare an ambush.

Half an hour had passed as they lay on their stomachs, waiting, listening. Wilms checked the illuminated dial of his watch repeatedly. He started to fidget. “How long does it take to search through a bunch of weeds, for Christ’s sakes?”

The signalman’s restlessness merely incited Angst’s nerves; he thought he heard something above the rough murmur of the idling Stug III. He looked to Wilms and Lustig and knew they were aware of the noise as well—the unmistakable clatter of tracks and cogs with the intermittent squeal of revolving parts so indicative of a T-34. It was difficult to pinpoint the exact location from where the sound originated. Wilms was certain the tank was advancing directly from the front, beyond the thicket, the sound muffled by the growth. Lustig disagreed. The tank approached from the north. As the sound increased in volume, it filled Angst’s head from all directions, but he wasn’t about to argue this point with the sergeant. Wilms tried to raise the assault gun on the radio but received no response. Static buzzed over the headphones, accompanied by a shrill overlay that pulsed at intervals. This was interference of a kind the signalman had never come across. He removed the headphones, as the noise was painful to hear.

“Pieper must have heard the tank by now,” he said, the tension evident in his voice. He cupped one of the headphones to his ear, gripped the mike, and tried to summon the vehicle again. “Shit,” he cursed. For all the good the radio was doing, it might as well be an empty box. “I’m going back to the assault gun and find out what’s going on,” he said, and crawled away.

“The tank must be as blind as the assault gun,” Angst said. Lustig continued to listen to the encompassing reverberation. The T-34 now traveled at top speed. A cannon blast caused Angst and Lustig to jerk simultaneously.

The assault gun had fired a star shell, the large magnesium round illuminating the landscape in a cold, bright glare. The T-34 sounded very close, but nothing stood out in relief against the burning white flare that drifted slowly across the sky. Only the assault gun was discernible to the rear, and the prone bodies of the grenadiers lying on the ground nearby. The engine revved to life and was on the move. Angst was afraid. It was all too strange, an enemy tank that could be heard, practically right on top of them, but not located. And where the hell is that patrol? he wondered. The assault gun increased speed, drove past fifty meters to their left, and followed a course directly for the thicket. The star shell floated back to earth and landed in a clump of glowing cinders.

“What’s the gun commander doing?” Angst asked excitedly, but he didn’t get an answer from Lustig, who watched the events unfold with grim concern. The gun commander was either aware of the tank’s location or in a panic, Angst thought. The assault gun continued to speed forward, its course unaltered. Then a cannon erupted far to the rear. Angst and Lustig lay even flatter on the ground as the shell whistled by. Two more rounds followed in quick succession. They witnessed the impact as molten red flashes connected with the hull of the assault gun. The vehicle shook violently as pieces of armor were torn off and scattered. When the fuel on board ignited and the ammunition magazine exploded, the Stug III brewed up in a spectacle of orange flame. A searchlight was activated on the T-34, and the beam swept across the ground as an amplified loudspeaker wailed. The siren like noise mimicked a dive-bombing JU-87, too exact in sound to be coincidental. The hull machine gun opened fire and raked the human targets that lay prone or uselessly tried to scramble out of the way. There was the sound of the turret in traverse, from nine o’clock to twelve, to three o’clock and back again, as the 76 mm armament spat out high-explosive rounds. Clumps of dirt and fragments pelted down on Angst’s back, shoulders, and helmet. He clamped his buttocks together to avoid fouling himself. He wanted to get up and run. Sensing this, Lustig placed a hand firmly on his back and pressed downward. “Easy, son,” he said reassuringly, “stay put, and we’ll make it.”

The searchlight was extinguished. The tank headed in an easterly direction, and the sound of its engine gradually faded. Lustig got to his feet, pulled Angst up along with him, and approached the fiery glow that rimmed the burning vehicle. The charred and mangled body of one of the crew lay near the wreck. The gun commander had been catapulted from the hatch when the armor piercing rounds struck. The destruction was hideously thorough. Between the flames, the hull was torn open with edges that were jagged and curled back, as though it were a tin can. The T-34 had fired with such precise accuracy, and under nighttime conditions; it caused Lustig to wonder if the Soviets had developed some new fire control apparatus. The star shell hadn’t helped matters, certainly, but the tank had fired after the illumination had already dampened. And the assault gun was moving at top speed. There was also the rate of fire the T-34 maintained that caused Lustig unease.

Forms started to appear at the threshold of light cast by the flames. Jumpy, Angst was about to shoot, but then he recognized the uniforms and the men who wore them. Schroeder and the patrol had returned with looks of total confusion on their grimy faces. “What happened” Schroeder asked.

“What does it look like? We were attacked,” Angst replied.

Schroeder collected himself as his focus narrowed on Angst. “I can see that; what I want to know is how?” Before Angst had the chance to answer, Lustig closed in on the escort grenadier corporal. “What have you been doing all this time? We waited for some kind of a signal from you, but it never arrived.”

Schroeder eyed the sergeant warily. He and the machine gun crew appeared muddled and dazed. They seemed to work at trying to find the right words to explain their actions, but Lustig had already lost patience. “What have you to report, Corporal”?

“We lost our bearings,” Schroeder said quietly, obviously embarrassed.

“You lost your bearings in a patch of tall grass? That’s some excuse,” Angst said in a derisive tone. Lustig motioned him to silence.

Schroeder went on the defensive. “I’m telling you, we lost our way. I don’t know how, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s the truth. I can’t explain it. It felt like we were cut off…”

“From the rest of the world,” Detwiler added. Ganz nodded his head in agreement.

“What are you saying? Didn’t you hear the tank or see the star shell? The whole place was lit up!”

“Sergeant, I swear, we saw and heard nothing. That thicket is like a maze. A labyrinth. We couldn’t find our way out until we saw the fire. We used it to guide us out. I was worried about mines. The thicket appears to have been constructed on purpose. You think I don’t know how unbelievable this sounds? But it’s the truth. I’ll swear on it.” The machine gun crew stood by the corporal’s word. Lustig seemed more amazed by the response rather than doubtful. “Pull yourselves together. We’ve taken quite a beating. See who’s left and in what condition, and try not to get lost this time.” The grenadiers started to walk away when an ear-splitting wail made them all freeze. Some enormous beast lunged out of the thicket, draped in vines and cobwebs. Adrenaline shot throughout Angst’s body with needlelike sharpness. Everyone ran except for Lustig, who, for a fraction of a second too long, stayed rooted in place. The screaming animal clipped the sergeant as it raced by and sent him hurtling through the air. Angst caught sight of the tank as it sped off, its ribbed, perforated tracks kicking up clods of grass and soil. Although he only got a glimpse, the T-34 appeared hideous and unreal. Some of the grenadiers opened fire, but the bullets clanged harmlessly against the thick armored skin; others ran, shouting in a mad panic. Stumbling, they buried their faces in the ground and chewed the stiff, dry grass to avoid devouring their tongues.