men, listening to the haranguing of the Komissars whipping them into a fighting fervor to destroy the Fascist beasts who dared step on the soil of the mother Russia by the dozens and then the hundreds. These small pockets emerged, then began to join together, forming larger ones; thousands of Russians had been bypassed in the tank fight and now they would have to face them in the dark.
Langer left Teacher in the turret with the binoculars and sent Gus off to scrounge some chow from the grenadiers. They had plenty on board, but if there was food to be had, they would save theirs. Young Ertl kept close to Langer, his lips still trembling from controlled fear, his face pale. Grunting, Carl lit a butt and stuck it between the boy's lips.
'Take a drag. It will help. You did good today. Now find a place close to Gus when he gets back and stay with him. That ugly old bear may not be fit for the drawing rooms of Europe, but out here, he has a knack for surviving. Maybe some of it will rub off on you.'
Langer found the officer in charge of the grenadiers and lunched down beside him. The major was going over his charts, marking their position and noting where the other units of the assault force were digging in for the night. Darkness was closing in and in the distance, long columns of smoke from burning tanks showed the Luftwaffe was still at work. From the north came the long distant rumble of artillery barrages being laid.
Turning to Langer, the major—his face dirty and uniform less than picture-book perfect—squinted at him through grime-laden lids.
'You the one with the Mark V?'
Carl nodded.
'Good. We will need you before this night is done. The bastards knew we were going to hit them today. They knew when and where. I'm Kruger, major by the grace of our Fuhrer in this glorious social experiment. Fuck it. Where's your beast at?'
Langer pointed down the ravine to the Panther.
'Good enough. Leave it there. I'll send over a squad to give you cover for the night. After it gets dark, pull it back a little from the edge of the gully and face it down the ravine so you can use your hull MG. The turret gun will still be able to fire over the lip of the gully.'
Carl nodded agreement. The man knew his business.
Lighting up a smoke for himself, he drew it deep into his lungs, holding a moment and then exhaling through his nostrils.
'Where are we, Major? I can just get radio contact with my company leader but we've been weaving in and out of those damned antitank ditches for hours.'
Pointing a dirty fingernail, Kruger indicated a point on the map. 'Here. Just north of Butovo.' He looked at the shoulder tabs of the Panzer man. 'You're with the 26th Pz, right?' Then, not waiting for an answer, 'They're on the right flank about four kilometers behind and we are, my good friend and ally, the leading element of this action.'
A whining hum followed by the crack of a rifle shot made them slap the sides of the gully automatically. Langer spit the mangled butt out of his mouth where he had snuffed it out by pushing his face into the ground. Taking a bit of tobacco off his tongue with a dirty hand he said, 'Sounds like a Tokarev. Probably a sniper with a scope. Do you have anyone here to take him out?'
Kruger shook his head. 'No, but I'll send a couple of boys out to get him when it gets dark. He's been taking pot shots for the last hour; hasn't hit anyone but it can ruin a man's digestion when he gets too close.'
Two
Kruger shook his head. 'A good man. Shrapnel from a T-34 burst. . . .' Langer looked closely at the wounded man's face as he passed. He had seen the look too many times before, that distant expression that even pain could not hide. A certain look to the eyes that meant he was dying.
'He's a goner.'
Kruger nodded agreement. 'All right. Sergeant, enough of this bullshit. Get back to your people and take care of them. If I can do anything for you, let me know.' Kruger turned his back and moved off down the gully, talking to a man here and there, giving a pat on the back or kick in the ass as was needed.
Approvingly Langer watched him. Good man. A spinning ricochet said their sniper was still out there—trying his best but to little avail.
Gus joined him on the way back to the Panther, carrying five loaves of bread and an armful of ersatz sausage which everyone swore was made from the cadavers of diseased hyenas. Only Gus seemed to like them, but then he liked everything. He was a walking septic tank. Langer watched in amazement as a long link of sausages disappeared into the gaping orifice that served as a mouth for Gus. 'A walking septic tank, that's what he is.'
CHAPTER FOUR
Ilye Shimilov scanned the German positions through an artillery periscope. Holding the rank of captain, he still had the final authority over the commander of the guards battalion that would attack this night. He had proved his fitness time and. again, and more than once he had personally shot laggards or those who failed to show the proper revolutionary spirit in the back of the neck with his Nagant revolver. He preferred it over the newer automatic Tokarev pistols. Revolvers were old-fashioned, but they seldom jammed. He was satisfied with what he saw. From the outposts he had received the strength and disposition of the Germans facing him.
Two self-propelled guns and a single Panther, all told about eighty men in the gully which sat on a small rise. He had at his disposal seven T-34s and two KV-Is. That and the assault battalion of the 199th Guards would be more than enough to wipe out this small pocket of Fascists.
There was about a half-hour of light left. Langer put his rations in the turret and strapped on a couple of extra pouches of magazines for the MP-40 submachine gun he took out of the tank. Stuffing his long Kar-98 bayonet into his belt, he tapped Teacher on the shoulder and said, 'I'm going out for a look see.' One thing he had learned over the years was to get a look at his position from the enemy's point of view, to see where the most likely spot was for them to come from and check for low points in which troops could mass unseen.
Teacher nodded. 'Be careful, my friend. We need you here. Don't let Ivan talk you into going to one of the rest camps beyond the Urals.'
