Bob Carruthers - Into the Gates of Hell - Stug Command '41

THE SOVIET ammunition truck screamed along the minor road as fast as the straining engine would allow. On the ridge over to his left Wendorff could see the main Moscow highway which was crammed with German tanks, vehicles and horse-drawn transport, all heading east.

Although the skies buzzed with aircraft, unbeknown to Wendorff and his new colleagues, the focus of the battle had already shifted far to the east. The Soviet city of Minsk was the new target.

The city of Brest had been quickly seized, as expected, and Kobrin, the following objective, had also been seized by the Panzers, who were already approaching Minsk. The single vehicle barrelling along the secondary road therefore attracted no attention from the air, but on the ground matters took a turn for the worse. The truck suddenly found its route back to the fortress blocked by a German staff car heading in the same direction.

“What do you want me to do, Sergeant?” asked the driver.

“Clear him off the road!” replied the sergeant.

Wendorff braced himself as the driver hit the accelerator. The truck leapt forward and slammed into the back of the staff car which slewed round through ninety degrees and hit a tree. The passenger smashed into the dashboard and slumped motionless in his seat. The German driver didn’t wait and leapt from the car, running as fast as his legs would carry him. The Soviet driver didn’t so much as pause and, with a roar of triumph, the truck sped on.

From his hiding position next to the road, Dimitri Korsak could hardly believe his luck. As the truck roared off, he sprinted from his hiding place and quickly established that the car wasn’t too badly damaged and could still be driven. He dragged the unconscious figure of the airman and threw him aside. He ushered the shocked figure of the girl into the passenger seat. He could still see the dust cloud of the ammunition truck as it sped down the lane towards the fortress. “They must know something about the situation ,” thought Korsak to himself and, revving the engine to its maximum, he resolved to follow the truck. He drove fast and was soon hard on the tail of the speeding truck.

The bizarre combination of the speeding ammunition truck with a German staff car close on its heels passing in a cloud of dust was something of an unexpected conundrum and caused such confusion in the few groups of German soldiers they passed that none sought to impede their rapid progress. Most of the scattered groups of German soldiers were focussed on their own missions and gave no consideration to the pair of vehicles which flashed by in a cloud of dust. As a result of the combination of misperception, indifference and surprise in the small groups they passed, they were able to reach the outskirts of Brest undetected and unchallenged.

The streets of the city were deserted. Rubble was strewn everywhere and fires raged unchecked. The larger formations of German infantry were bypassing the city and heading east. No one expected traffic from the direction of their advance and the clouds of smoke soon engulfed the speeding vehicles. Sergeant Yashin knew the streets like the back of his hand and was able to direct the driver towards the fortress. Korsak stuck to them like glue. It looked as though they would reach the safety of the fortress as they approached the Kobrin gate. Here, their progress was finally interrupted by a stream of bullets from a startled sentry that shattered the windscreen and shot through the roof of the cab. Reacting like lightning, the driver jammed his foot on the accelerator and scattered the small German squad which had attempted to prevent their progress. To Wendorff’s immense relief, this was the only obstacle in their way and the truck soon screamed over the bridge and onto the island of Kobrin.

The situation around them on the large northern island was fluid as groups of Russian defenders wrestled for control with the German attackers. Both were equally bemused by the sudden appearance of the pair of speeding vehicles emerging from the smoke and chaos. The uniforms that flashed by Wendorff’s window now changed from grey to brown, but rather than halt at the first Russian outpost, the driver, like a man possessed, hurtled through the parkland and clattered over the bridge to the citadel island. Once more there was no stopping. Despite the mortar rounds, artillery shells and small-arms fire from both sides all around them, both vehicles hurtled on and flashed over the southern bridge linking the citadel to Cholmsker Island.

With the destination now in sight, the driver finally slowed and drew up beside the casemate of the Volhyn fortification where a stunned group of Red Army soldiers waved both vehicles to a halt. There was no time to think. Sergeant Yashin was as bemused as anyone to see the German staff car pull up behind him. He was about to speak when, with mortar bombs falling all around, he thought better of it and called out to the assembled defenders, “Here, comrades, help us unload the ammunition before we all get blown sky high!”

Willing hands rushed to the back of the truck and the precious cargo was soon being unloaded and rushed into the comparative safety of the casemate. A young commissar rushed up to the German staff car and stopped in his tracks as Korsak emerged from the vehicle, helping the traumatised figure of a young girl to her unsteady feet.

“Comrade Korsak!” said the startled young commissar.

“Comrade Fomin, what is happening here? Is it a counter-revolution?”

“No, comrade, the fascists attacked us by surprise last night, but we are holding out. Why do you have the fascist staff car?”

“I took it from them. I was on a mission for Moscow that was interrupted by all this,” Korsak replied, gesticulating at the explosions falling nearby, “and now I am at your disposal, but, please, first help me to get the girl to safety.”

“Of course I will, Comrade Korsak,” replied Fomin.

“She needs care. Her family were the victims of a massacre ordered by a certain Hauptsturmführer Hans von Schroif. Remember that name.”

Wendorff stood stock still in shock, his ears now tuned for a further mention of his former commander.

“When he is not ordering mass murder and rape, he is likely to be in command of an armoured unit,” continued Korsak contemptuously. “We know he is in the vicinity and I have a very personal score to settle with him.”

“Well, your guess is good. The first prisoners have confirmed that he is the leader of Kampfgruppe von Schroif. The main force is a battalion of assault guns. We have seen them off at the Terespol gate and we suspect they are getting ready to attack again, so your expertise in armoured warfare will be very welcome indeed.”

“I am at your disposal, comrade,” replied Korsak.

“The situation is under control here, but I understand that Major Gavrilov is getting ready to defend the Kobrin fortification. We expect them to strike there next. Elements of the 98th Anti-tank Battalion are trying to make their way over to him, so it should be a very warm welcome.”

“If that’s where you feel I can best be of service, then I’ll attempt to make my way over to him straight away,” said Korsak. He concluded by gesturing towards Wendorff, who seemed to be doing nothing in particular. “Take care of the girl, she has had a terribly traumatic time,” he said with a nod towards the girl.

Wendorff still made no move as he looked around in vain for an opportunity to make himself scarce, but he was intercepted by Commissar Fomin.

“Bandsman, are you listening? Where is your weapon?”

“I don’t have one, Comrade Commissar,” stammered Wendorff.

“Well, get yourself in there,” Fomin said, pointing towards the entrance to a tunnel. “They will issue you with one. And take this young girl to safety. There are nurses in the tunnel.”