Krebitz and the Viet Minh MG’s. The mortar fire was intense, and shells began to burst around our own positions. Five of them exploded below the hill but others were creeping upward, seeking our machine guns. We were heading for a major battle with a large enemy force, probably two battalions, and our immediate future did not seem too bright.
I watched Krebitz and his men as they came dashing from cover to cover between the shrubs. Bullets threw dust and dirt all around them. Every one of our weapons was now covering Gruppe Drei but even so, a couple of the men fell, never to rise again.
“They already got four of them!” Schulze yelled and swore. The next instant I heard a swift “whoooz” and we ducked instinctively. Three mortar shells screamed in and exploded in rapid succession. Whoever was directing the enemy mortars must have been an expert, for shells now began to fall everywhere; on the hill, in the river, along the trail. I saw that Eisner’s company was getting its fair share, too.
“They are firing from over there!” Schulze yelled, pointing at a wooded hill about a mile from us on the far side of the river. Focusing my field glasses, I could just make out a group of Viet Minh working a dozen mortars. We managed to pin down the enemy MG’s and riflemen while Krebitz was crossing the river. They couldn’t use the coverless bridge, so Gruppe Drei had to wade and swim for the shrubby sanctuary on our side. None of our machine guns could effectively reach the enemy mortars, though some of Erich’s gunners tried to jam them by firing at extreme angles.
“It’s a waste of slugs,” I told him. “At sixteen hundred yards they will only scratch the place where they hit.”
“Never mind,” Schulze replied. “We still have a faint chance of getting some of them in the eye.”
I had to refrain from using our mortars. We had to preserve the limited amount of shells we had, for valuable targets such as Viet Minh camps, ammunition depots, and the like. To use them in an open battle only to silence a couple of enemy mortars and kill a dozen men would have been “extravagant,” a luxury that we couldn’t afford. The enemy could shell us at leisure. Only Pfirstenhammer’s group appeared to be spared by the mortars, so, I decided after all, to send the girls to him.
“Say, Hans!” Schulze turned to me suddenly. “Shouldn’t we ask Karl if he has any shells for those howitzers?”
“The howitzers!” In my excitement I had completely forgotten about the guns. It took only seconds to get Karl on the set. “Karl!” I called him excitedly. “We are having trouble with the mortars. Our MG’s can’t reach them…”
“I gather that… do you want me to use the howitzers?”
“Have you got shells?”
“Some…”
Karl was obviously amusing himself.
“Then get moving, Karl. If the Viets keep firing at the rate they are blasting away at us now—”
“All right, all right… you can tell your sob story later, Hans,” he cut in with a chuckle. “The guns are ready. I was about to call you myself. Just give me the elevations.”
“I am sending the girls over to you.”
“Nice of you, Hans. Start talking!” With Schulze observing the enemy positions, I began to radio the trajectories. The first salvo was a hundred yards short. The second and third volley struck home, blasting men and mortars.
“How was it?” Karl asked; firing over a patch of woods he could not possibly observe the explosions.
“You are hitting them squarely, Karl. Keep firing!” The rest was only routine.
The Viet Minh mortars ceased firing. The enemy commander thought it prudent to change location. While they were moving, Karl pumped a dozen shells into the shrubbery where the guerrilla machine gunners were deployed. Shortly afterwards the mortars fired again, though only a couple of rounds, and stopped before we could seek them out with the howitzers. Their shells scattered about the hill, blasting a few trees, chipping the rocks, a long way off target. Nevertheless, reports on casualties began to flow. Gruppe Drei reported eleven dead. More had been wounded by shell fragments. I ordered Krebitz to carry the wounded over to Karl’s section where the nurses could safely attend to them. I was calling Eisner when a salvo of around twenty mortar rounds screamed in and plastered the foothills where Bernard was deploying in the shrubbery. The moment the shells exploded, I felt a grip at my throat. The wireless cut out. Schulze dropped his field glasses and buried his face in his hands.
“Eisner has had it!” Corporal Altreiter cried.
I rushed to the radio set.
“Adler… Adler calling Stella… Adler report in… report in…”
Altreiter kept calling, then lowered his earphones and shook his head.
“There’s no reply.”
I dispatched two men to look for survivors.
Moments later we spotted two large enemy detachments moving toward the river with the obvious intention of crossing above and below our positions and probably delivering a two-pronged attack at dusk. Since a third enemy unit was still occupying the shrubbery and woods on the far side of the river, I realized that we had grossly underestimated the strength of the enemy. Schulze thought that there was at least a Viet Minh brigade in the vicinity of the river. More and more mortars came into play and we learned that the six howitzers which we had captured were not the only ones the enemy possessed. Soon our howitzers were engaged in a vicious duel with four similar guns on the opposite bills. I began to dislike the situation.
One of our machine gunners called from the ridge overlooking the river. Rushing over to him, we saw a macabre drama on the enemy-occupied bank. Pursued by a group of terrorists, a comrade from Gruppe Drei was staggering toward the river. The trooper was obviously injured. He must have lain unconscious in the shrubbery for some time only to come to with enemy troops surging all around. The Viet Minh did not fire. They wanted the man alive.
Reaching the water, the trooper fell. He rose and waded a few more steps. An instant later the guerrillas swarmed over him. We could do nothing to save him. The terrorists were dragging him back toward the woods.
I ordered three machine guns to open fire on the struggling group. A young trooper at the nearest gun closed his eyes, swallowed hard, then grabbed the fire lever. He knew only too well what would be waiting for our comrade in the hands of the Viet Minh.
The group was caught in the murderous crossfire of the three MG’s. In a few seconds it was all over. For our wounded comrade it was indeed a mercy killing. The Viet Minh would have skinned him alive. It had happened before.
The troopers whom I had sent to look for Eisner returned. They looked pale and shaken, trying to catch their breath. “Eisner is dead,” one of them reported. “Sixteen others received direct hits… Nothing’s left of them but bits of flesh and clothes.”
“Sergeant Zeisl and nurse Thi are tending the wounded,” the second trooper added. “Nine men were hit, some of them badly.”
The rate of the enemy fire was still on the increase. Defying our machine guns, more and more guerrillas deployed on the far side of the river, but no crossing was yet attempted. Karl must have silenced some of the Viet Minh howitzers but a few shells were still coming in to blast the trail and the hillside. Seven more of our comrades were killed. The mortars sent salvo after salvo. I could see projectiles bursting around the small patch of shrubbery where Karl had deployed. He was already moving the howitzers to a safer place.
All of a sudden Erich swore and rushed to the wireless.
“What’s the matter?” I yelled after him.
“The girls!” he shouted and for a moment my breath failed me. “Look at them!” Schulze waved in the general direction of Karl’s position. The next instant he was calling Pfirstenhammer.
Grabbing my field glasses I scanned the trail along the woods and understood Erich’s consternation. I spotted Suoi and Noy kneeling beside a wounded comrade, ducking whenever a shell screamed overhead. Mortar shells exploded all around them.
“Karl!” I heard Schulze shout, “get the girls out of there and be quick about it.”
“They are with a badly wounded man, Erich.”
“I don’t care if they are with Jesus Christ… Get them out of there.”
