The Beast of Dubrovka¹

(Source)

Von Lüttwitz shivered as a snowflake managed to find an opening in his coat collar and touched the back of his neck. The snow wasn't heavy, but it helped with visibility as the ground gradually was coated. The moon hadn't been an issue at all as the clouds had rolled in shortly before midnight.

He looked to his left and then his right, his men were in a skirmish line, a little closer together than normally as he didn't want them getting separated in the dark. They were nearly as silent as the grave, only occasionally did he hear the swish of wool on wool as they moved.

They came to an opening in the forest, which, as Niehaus had said, was fairly easy to move through but provided excellent concealment. The men stopped at the edge of the woods.

Von Lüttwitz dropped to one knee as he surveyed the landscape. The snow was getting heavier now, though in the fields ahead it wasn't as apparent due to the tall grass alongside the road. But the road itself was clearly marked out in white.

Wittmann knelt next to him and leaned in close, "The next bend in the road and we should be able to see the kolkhoz from there, at least that big barn shown on the map."

Von Lüttwitz noticed that Wittmann had used the Russian word for collective farm, "kolkhoz." He noticed that his men, much like soldiers everywhere, picked up the odd word or two of Russian and tended to use those when they could. After all, "kolkhoz" is a far less cumbersome than it's German equivalent," Kollektivwirtschaft."

"Yes, I'm going to take Warstadt with me up to the bend to see what we can see. I'll send him back to let you know where I want you. Klar?"

Wittmann squeezed von Lüttwitz's arm to let him know he understood.

(Source)

Von Lüttwitz held up one hand as he dropped to one knee, Warstadt, close behind him, stopped as well and turned to watch to the rear and either flank. Something was bothering the squad leader, Warstadt could sense that.

"What is that in the road, doesn't look like a structure, looks more like a ... Verdammt! Ein Panzer!" Von Lüttwitz's mind was racing a kilometer a second as those thoughts tumbled through his consciousness.

He still remembered the encounter with the big French Panzer the year before, this one looked even larger! It sat slightly off the road, von Lüttwitz could see that its cannon covered the road down to where he was kneeling. With the trees behind him, he didn't think any Russian in the Panzer would see him. At least not easily.

Von Lüttwitz eased back away from the bend, Warstadt moved with him.

"What is it Chef?"

"A Russki Panzer, a big one, let's head back to the squad."

"Just the one, Jürgen?" Hauptmann Busch whispered, though they were a good 200 meters from the Russians, one couldn't be too careful this close to the enemy.

"Just the one I could see Herr Hauptmann, very big it was."

Busch thought for a moment then fell back to the platoon command group. "Fritz, I'm going to go back further, there's a bloody great Panzer up the road, probably a KV. They're tough, our Panzers have had a lot of trouble with these. There was one in Lithuania which held up an entire Panzerdivision in the early days of the invasion. We've got nothing to handle one of these, but neither do our mates to the rear."

"What about a Flak 8.8?" Fritz Acker suggested.

"Take too long to get here, let me talk to battalion. Have your men see if they can tell what sort of infantry support that beast has."

"Jawohl Herr Hauptmann."

"Any luck, Sir?" Acker asked as the captain returned.

"Some, seems battalion has a squad of combat engineers temporarily attached, the Major is sending a couple up to us. Might be here by daybreak. For now we fall back and wait. We'll try again tonight."

"Zu befehl!"

"What now, Chef?" Wittmann wasn't happy, though the snow had stopped, the temperature had fallen. He had heard of the Russian winter. Though he had visited the USSR before the war, it had never been in winter. He knew the fall and spring could be cold, but winter was something else again.

"Still worried about winter, Sepp?" von Lüttwitz asked with a grin.

"Aber natürlich! Back home, you'd have to go up into the Alps to experience anything close to a Russian winter. It gets brutal."

"Sepp, it's only September." von Lüttwitz chided his assistant squad leader.

"And look around you," Wittmann swept his arm around to indicate the snow which had fallen, less than a centimeter, "September in Russia. It will be far worse soon!"

"Snow and a f**king Soviet Panzer the size of a house!" Wittmann exclaimed in frustration.

Von Lüttwitz looked askance at Wittmann, "Not our job, the engineers will deal with it, we just have to cover them. Cover of night, it'll be risky, but we can do this."

Wittmann wasn't as confident as his squad leader, but orders were orders. He looked at von Lüttwitz and grinned, "Maybe we can find some more chickens?"

Von Lüttwitz laughed, "That would be nice, but you and the men get some sleep, it's going to be a very long night."

Wittmann sighed, "Very well. As they say, 'Ave Imperator, morituri te salutant!'"

Von Lüttwitz stopped and looked at Wittmann, "Latin?"

"Mama wanted me to be a priest."

"You should have listened to her."

"I suppose it's too late now?"

"I'll ask the Hauptmann, maybe he can put in a good word for you."

Wittmann shook his head, "The big shots in Berlin would probably have me shot."

"They might still."

"Sometimes. my dear Fahnenjunker-Feldwebel, you are no fun at all." Wittmann laughed as he said that, then turned on his heel to get the men bedded down. As von Lüttwitz said, the night would be long, he might not see the morning, who could tell?

¹ The village of Dubrovka (Дубровка) in the Leningrad Oblast, Russia. (See here.)