Ambush

Source

Stabsfeldwebel Dieter Krafft was sound asleep in the trench. Schütze Kurt Lang had the watch with Schütze Rudolf Müller, it had taken some time to convince Krafft to sleep. Though he had struggled against the idea, Krafft realized that as exhausted as he was, it was smarter to sleep.

"Wake me at the first sign of trouble." Krafft had muttered.

"Certainly Dieter, you'll be the first one I call." Lang had said with a grin.

Now the two men watched as the sun disappeared and darkness fell over the land.

They sat quietly, taking turns sleeping, letting Krafft sleep most of the night. Lang knew the man would be angry, but he was out on his feet. Tired leaders make mistakes which get people killed. He'd take whatever abuse his sergeant would offer. Lang swore that the eastern horizon was becoming more defined, dawn wasn't far away. Then Müller stirred and asked a question.

"Kurt, do you think the Russians will come today?"

Lang looked at the kid, "You ask a lot of questions, Rudi. Just pay attention, you'll learn. Then wished you had never seen battle."

"Kurt?"

Lang sighed and realized the lad was anxious, "What now, Junge?"

"We have a flare gun, if we fire that, don't you think the Russians will also see it?"

Lang rubbed his face with his right hand, shook his head, then said, "Look, we won't see the Russians unless we are facing very stupid ones. The first we will know of the Russians is a storm of artillery. When that lifts, then we'll see the Russians. Provided we are still alive."

"Then why give us a flare gun?"

"I don't know, laddie, I really don't."

Lang turned when he heard a grunt behind him, "How can anyone sleep when you two Idioten are jabbering like a pair of fishwives on market day?"

Krafft checked his watch, perhaps another hour until sunrise. He sighed and reached for his helmet, putting it on, then checking that his weapon was in working order, he addressed the two men.

"We have a flare gun just in case the Russians just advance without artillery preparation. We don't know what that reconnaissance unit reported. From what I saw they were busy trying to NOT do their jobs. They didn't check out this ridge, they stopped at the village, spent the night, probably drinking whatever was left in the way of alcohol, and murdering an old lady. They may have reported back that the village and the ridge were unoccupied."

"A safe bet, in some ways." Lang offered.

Müller looked at the older man, "How so?"

"Kurt is right, Junge," Krafft explained, "Why make a stand here when we could slip across the Oder and make them do an assault crossing? Stands to reason that there would be no one here. My guess is they'll come rumbling up that road, fat, dumb, and happy."

"Then what?" Müller asked.

"Persistent bugger, isn't he?" Lang laughed.

"Then we shoot them in the face, boy. Kill as many as we can and hope we can get away afterwards."

"Doesn't sound like much of a plan." Müller griped.

Lang looked at Krafft, "Understanding has dawned!"

"Scheiße ..." Krafft sat up and trained his field glasses towards the forest.

The others looked, a column of Russian vehicles was exiting the wood, headlights blazing as if there was no war.

Lang muttered, "Guess we'd better fire that damned flare."

Krafft grabbed his arm, "No need." Just as a high explosive round from one of the tanks in the village engaged the lead Soviet armored car, shattering it as if it was a child's toy.

Hauptmann von Tetz smiled as his gunner engaged what appeared to be a T-34 just coming out of the forest. The gun barked, the vehicle jerked to a stop and flames erupted from the driver's hatch. A second later and the tank blew up, it's turret flipping end over end to crash down on a Soviet truck loaded with infantry.

"Nice shooting. Driver, let's move to our alternate position."

When preparing the village for defense, the two tank commanders had had the infantry prepare multiple positions for their vehicles. After firing they would move. No point in giving the Russians something to shoot at by just sitting there.

As the Panzer IVs were moving, Leutnant Schultz was settling his men, they wanted to open fire, he could tell they were antsy, he reminded them that Leutnant von Zitzewitz was across the road in the fields away from the village, towards the Warthe River, in prepared positions. It wasn't an extensive trench line by any means, but it was enough to hide half of von Zitzewitz's company.

The Ivans did as von Tetz expected, with their vehicles trapped in the forest by the destroyed T-34 blocking the road, they were getting their infantry dismounted and deployed. If it was him, he'd move to his left, the German right, to get around the village. Which is exactly what the Russian commander was doing.

"Steady, steady ... FIRE!!"

On command, the two MG 42s von Zitzewitz had deployed opened fire on the Russian skirmish line coming across the field. The Ivans were in a hurry to flank the village and hadn't even bothered to watch to their front.

"CEASE FIRE! SHIFT!!"

The machine gun teams moved, just in case any of the Russians had been paying attention. They had fallen back but had left a number of their comrades behind, crumpled in the fields. Some were still moving, badly wounded, most weren't moving at all, either dead or unconscious.

The Russians had melted back into the forest, Krafft was worried about his lieutenant so he decided to go down to the village. He trusted Lang.

"Kurt, you and Rudi keep an eye on things. I need to find out if the lieutenant is still among the living. I don't really trust von Tetz and Schultz. Wait here. If things go to hell, bug out to the west and don't stop until you're across the Oder."

Lang simply nodded.

Krafft walked into the village and ran into Schultz first thing.

"What are you doing down here, can't you obey simple orders?"

Krafft leaned into the man, "Be careful Herr Leutnant, I am not under you command. Where is my commander."

"We don't know." The man stated in a flat voice.

At that moment one of his company's squads came into the village.

"Ah, Herr Stabsfeldwebel, we need more ammunition for the 42s. I can't find our carts."

Krafft started to speak, when Schultz interrupted him.

"I took the liberty of taking those carts for my men. You have plenty, we do not."

Looking at the squad leader, Krafft told him, "Go back over there," he gestured at the fields across the road, "find von Zitzewitz. Tell him we need to know how far the Ivans fell back. I have a feeling they're going to pull well back then call for artillery. We can't be here when that happens."

"Now look here Staber ..." Schultz began.

"Not now Herr Leutnant, and give us our carts back. Now."

"How dare you ..."

Krafft grabbed Schultz by the collar of his jacket and drew him close, pulling his combat knife at the same time.

"I'd settle down, Sir, you would not be the first Arschloch¹ I've killed this week. You handle your men, I'll handle mine."

"I will see you shot for ..." Schultz gasped as Krafft's combat knife stabbed into his lower belly. The pain was overwhelming and immense. He tried to speak and Krafft ripped the knife across his abdomen.

The squad leader and his men stood there, aghast. Krafft turned on them, "You lads need to get going, Ivan could be back at any moment."

The Gefreiter nodded, he directed two of his men to carry the dying Schultz into one of the ruined buildings near the entrance to the building. Then he turned to Krafft.

"If anyone asks, I saw Leutnant Schultz heading out to find von Zitzewitz."

Krafft was starting to shake badly, he looked at the man and said, "Just go. Move."

He had just murdered another man from his own side. He thought that he was protecting his lieutenant and the men of his company. But was he really?

Was he at the point that he would kill anyone and anything which stood in the way of his own survival? That bothered him, but for now, he needed to get the company to safety and away from this tanker captain.

As he started into the village, he heard an ominous sound ...

Damn it, Ivan really wants this village, Krafft thought as he sprinted out of the village to find his lieutenant. Time was running out.

¹ Equivalent to American "asshole."