Arras

(Source)

Gefreiter Max Bender was eating a bit of bread he and his friend Otto Schmerling, had "liberated" from a nearby farmhouse. It appeared to him as if the inhabitants of the farm, indeed the entire area, had hurriedly left their homes just recently. It didn't occur to him that the people of this region had seen the Germans come through some twenty-six years ago, with devastating results.¹

For now, he and his squad were enjoying a brief respite from his division's headlong advance. It was also a very pleasant day in spring, the smell of growing things and the twitter of the birds flitting from tree to tree made the brief rest even more enjoyable.

Bender looked up to see Unterfeldwebel Adolph Behr walking back from his meeting with the platoon commander, Leutnant Johannes Kielholz. "What news Herr Unterfeldwebel?"

"After we refuel, we're off again. Apparently unser Rommel² is in somewhat of a hurry!"

Bender and the men with him chuckled at that, their commanding officer seemed to do everything at the double quick step.

Bender stopped laughing when he heard the sound of a heavy motor. Being a member of an armored division, he knew it was a tank engine, but not German.

Lieutenant Cedric Porter had his head just out of the hatch of his Matilda II tank. As the tank went around a bend in the road he was surprised to see a number of infantry lounging about, German infantry. They all seemed to stare for a moment before they realized what they were seeing. An enemy tank.

"Shall I engage them, Sir?" His gunner, Corporal Walter Simmons inquired, rather politely Porter thought.

"Yes Simmons, shoot those chaps."

Bender had expected the tank's main gun to fire as he dove into the ditch beside the road. He didn't know that this particular model of tank seldom carried high explosive rounds. The bursting charges for the British 2-pounder gun were just too small to make it useful. The machine gun in the turret was, on the other hand, very effective.

Unterfeldwebel Behr was down, clutching his abdomen and screaming in pain. At least two rounds from the tank's machine gun had hit him, one in the belly, the other grazing his left hip.

Realizing that he was now in charge of the squad, he looked for Himmel, his machine gunner, and his assistant Klepper. He was gratified that both men had set up their gun and were now firing on the enemy tank. The only effect that had was to make the tank commander disappear inside his turret.

Bender knew that his own tanks were not that far away. But if they didn't show up soon, he and his men would have to displace, and soon.

"Bloody Hell!" Porter had felt the sting of metal against his cheek as the enemy machine gun had walked its rounds up the hull, then onto the turret. A fragment had scoured his cheek and he was bleeding like a stuck pig.

"Sir!"

Porter took the rag his loader, Private Thomas Woodstock, offered him and pressed it to the wound. "Thanks Tommy! Driver, halt!" He had seen what could only be a German vehicle coming down the road, he suspected it was one of their lighter tanks. He wasn't worried, he just wanted to be stationary to give his gunner a better shot.

Bender ducked when the main gun on the British tank fired, his first thought was that they were shooting at his men. When he heard a loud clang to his rear, rather like a church bell he thought, he turned. A platoon of German panzers were advancing to engage the Tommies. The loud clang had come from the lead tank which had taken a glancing blow to the turret.

Bender watched as that panzer's turret moved slightly to engage the Tommy. Moments later its cannon fired and produced a shower of sparks from the front of the English tank. Which began to move forward again.

Bender yelled at his men to fall back to their right rear, he saw no point in staying here to watch the elephants dance.

"Ready!" Woodstock shouted out when the gun was reloaded.

"Fire at will, Walter!" At the same time he raised his signal flag out of the hatch and made the signal for his platoon to deploy in echelon right formation. Essentially a line with each tank stepped back slightly, in effect refusing their right flank.

Turning back to the front, Porter saw the lead German tank, he guessed it was a Mark II, armed with just a 20 mm auto-cannon, stop and grunted with satisfaction as smoke began to billow from the commander's hatch. "You've killed that one, Walter, walk your fire down to the next Hun, there's a good lad."

As night began to darken the eastern sky, Gefreiter Max Bender and his squad had fallen back at least a kilometer from where they had stopped to eat. After ten days of advancing it was disconcerting to be on the losing side of a battle.

Oberfeldwebel Herbert Schmelling chastised Bender when he heard him say, "Well, that's it then, hey lads? Guess we should start digging in."

"Battle's not over yet boy, did you see any infantry with those Tommy panzers? No, they were by themselves, unsupported. I'll wager they fall back as soon as night falls." Schmelling was now in command of the platoon, Leutnant Kielholz was dead. "But they'll be back in the morning, they bloodied our nose today, but we'll get ours tomorrow!"

Schmelling was right, the British came back the next day and were advancing seemingly at will until they ran into a wall of 88 mm antitank fire. The British were also assailed by the Luftwaffe, waves of Ju-87 Stukas bombing and strafing the advancing columns.

"Any word from the French Sir?" Lieutenant Porter was conferring with his company commander at the edge of the town of Arras.

"They're coming up short as well, Leftenant. Jerry is starting to maneuver another armored division onto our flank, we've no choice but to fall back." Captain Jeffrey Stewart shook his head as he folded his map up and put it away.

"See you at the rally point Cedric, don't get lost!"

Though the combined French-British counterattack didn't work as well as the Allied command had wished, it did give the Germans pause. They halted their advance momentarily as Berlin had an attack of nerves.

Eventually Guderian³ had the troops moving again, despite the wishes of his superiors. Valuable time was bought, allowing French and British units to fall back to the coast and avoid encirclement by the advancing Germans. But as a number of men on the Allied side observed, you don't win battles by retreating.

¹ In northern France and throughout Belgium, there are numerous monuments with the inscriptions: Fusillé par les Allemands 1914-1918 and Fusillé par les Allemands 1940-1944. (Shot by the Germans, with dates indicating WWI and WWII.)

² "Our" Rommel, referring to the commander of the 7th Panzer Division, of which these men are a part.

³ General Heinz Guderian, German tank expert, commanded an armored corps in the attack on France in 1940.