Artillery, it was exactly that. A race.
“Roll. Maximum speed, give her everything we’ve got.” This whole attack depended on speed to get past the German unit while they were still recovering from the shock of the bombing. Every man on both trains had a rifle or grenades, A few had anti-tank rockets. The windows in the carriages had been knocked out. In front of the frames, extra pieces of wood had been nailed to give an illusion of extra protection. Now the trains looked like an old- fashioned ship of the line with the guns sticking out of their sides in rows. That was one thing running for them, the hail of fire the men on board could put out. Another was that the long straight run to the junction was downhill. That would allow the trains to build up speed nicely ready for the charge through the railway junction. Under his feet, Perdue felt the Mikado pulling as it got
The buildings were ahead, just as the model had shown. A large group in the middle, a smaller group surrounding the points. The Germans were scattered around the former; the Russians dug in around the latter. The fountains of smoke and debris from the B-27’s bombs were already subsiding, clearing the way for the raking bursts from the Thunderstorm’s six .50 caliber machine guns. Some of the armored vehicles were already covered by the blue clouds that showed their crews were trying to get them started.
“Get those vehicles moving!” Asbach knew he had only minutes if that to get some sort of attack mounted. “Block that line!”
He’d guessed what the Amis had in mind.
Off to his left was a strange sight. A white cone running across the ground with a stick in its hand. Asbach recognized Lang in his white Fliegerschrenk cape with a loaded launcher in his hands. He dropped to one knee in the precisely-approved position, and held his fire despite the fountains of bullets whipping the snow around him. Then he fired. The rocket sped straight and true, scoring direct hit under the lead Jabo’s belly.
Noble Sniper Trufanova saw the man in the cape shoot the American sturmovik out of the sky and guessed who he was. The American pilot had spoken of this unit. They’d said it had one rocket man who was better, braver and more skilled than the others. The one who had shot down his
Asbach saw Lang fall as the sniper shot him. Then he saw the body lurch as another shot struck home. Only, this time he was watching. He saw the muzzle flash from the rifle. So did three of his machine gunners. They saturated the whole area with bullets.
Over by the tracks, a driver moved a half track onto the rails so that the way for the trains was blocked. Asbach’s Puma armored cars were already on the move. Their 50mm guns cracked shots at the Russians holding the buildings around the points. Then one of them exploded. The second wave of jabos, Grizzlies with their big 75mm guns sticking out the nose raced overhead. Asbach knew what was coming next. Jellygas.
Then he heard the thunder of the approaching trains. He spun around. They were very close; their sides lit up with a rippling wave of flashes as those inside poured rifle fire at the German troops milling around. He guessed very few of the shots were hitting anything, but the sheer volume was making his men put their heads down. He was expecting the trains to slow down as the drivers saw the track was blocked but there was no sign of them doing so. It suddenly occurred to him; they weren’t going to.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to do this.” The engine driver spoke contemplatively, but there was a glimmer of sheer joy in his statement. Ahead of them a German half-track blocked the railway line. Its gunner was intent on firing his machine gun at the Mikado bearing down upon him. Suddenly the German realized the awful truth and leaped out of his vehicle to run clear. He just made it. The locomotive smashed into the half track and spun it around before the disintegrating wreckage was hurled through the air to land in a blazing heap at one side of the track.
Perdue heard and felt the crash, but it didn’t really register. He was leaning out of the engine cab, firing his pistol at the Germans to one side of the train. The roar of gunfire from the carriages hadn’t stopped. The ripping noise of the PPS-45s and captured banana guns mated with the slower cracks of the SKS, Garand and Mozzie-Nag rifles to make a thunderous role of musketry that seemed to dominate the air around the train.
One of the armored cars had turned to fire on them. It could hurt, this one had a 75mm gun in a semi-fixed mounting. Its first shot screamed straight through the wooden carriage it had been aimed at, probably the crew had loaded armor piercing shot by force of habit. They didn’t make the same mistake twice. Its next shot was explosive and it devastated the carriage, leaving its thin wooden box in ruins. The carnage inside had to be awful. Then the armored car stopped firing and broke away, trying to escape from the shots of a Grizzly that was closing in on it.
The Mikado was slowing, Perdue turned to the engine driver. “We hit?”
“No sir, points coming up, we have to take them a bit careful like. Or we’ll go over.” Perdue nodded. It was fortunate the northern branch was the part of the points that went straight, not curved off but the slowdown was going to be dangerous. The rifle and machine gun fire from the Germans was hitting the carriages. That had to be hurting but the points were coming up. As the train slowed, the men on the first flat car reached down, hauling the Russian ski troops on board. Then
Knyaz had the remaining part of his force forming a rear guard, holding back the German troops while the rest got clear. The Ami-fighter-bombers were strafing the German positions.
“Bratischka, quickly, while we are screened by the fire!” The Russians left their positions and ran to the track where
