Mila 18 - Leon Uris [43]
Unable to organize, the Germans began fleeing on foot, to be run down, shot down, smashed down.
The tail end of the convoy, the last five trucks, were able to turn around and flee back north. The mortars in the woods found one truck, turning it into a torch. The other four escaped.
It was over in ten minutes. A hundred dead and dying Germans lay strewn about the road and the ditches, and the air hot with the burning of the shattered vehicles. Andrei pulled his men back into the forest.
He climbed from Batory and fell to his knees and doubled over to catch his breath. There were howls of the delight of victory among his dripping wet, exhausted men. The first smell of combat had been victory.
Andrei climbed to his feet and leaned against his horse, who was wet with sweat too but excited over the stimulation of carrying his master to a kill.
“Styka, we’re not going to throw a victory ball. Calm them down, we’ve work to do. Medic, what were our casualties?”
“Four dead, sir. Trzaska, Lieutenant Zurawski—I think he got it from our own cross fire—and Wajwod and Lamejko.”
“Wounded?”
“Six—one bad.”
“Horses?”
“Ten, Captain,” Styka said. “All have been executed.”
Andrei looked at the wreckage on the road. Nothing could pass. The Germans could not detour, for the ditches were too steep.
“Any orders, Captain?”
“Get the machine gunners back here. No use having them exposed. Just stand by—they’ll be back. Let me take a look at the wounded.”
The victory had done much to pass the first terrible fear of contact. They waited.
Andrei stood at the farthest edge of the forest, holding Batory’s reins. “Well, boy, we’re in it now,” he said to his horse. “That wasn’t so bad after all the times we’ve practiced it, was it? Too damned easy, if you ask me. Wish we had an alternative to this position. ... Well, we’re committed now. Have to hold them off this road. Think we can keep this position? Sure we can. They’ll never get another attack organized today. Easy, boy.”
Blam!
An explosion went off at the foot of the knoll, very close to the road, and another and another.
“Styka!”
It was long-range cannon fire. Where? A half dozen more shells exploded, walking up the knoll. Andrei looked at his watch. Only forty-eight minutes since he had regrouped for the attack.
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
“Over there,” Andrei said. He pointed in the direction of East Prussia. A dozen iron-treaded monsters were crossing the field, their cannons probing the forest. Andrei grunted. Radio communication and long-range guns had turned a good defensive position into a trap within minutes. Was he going to pay with interest for his ambush? He looked at his pair of puny mortars. They would be unable to reach the tanks until they were fairly near the road. The Germans could lay back out of range and blast them to pieces if they chose. Break for it, maybe? No, dammit never!
The cannon fire began to find the edge of the woods. The line of horsemen began to waver. “Steady there!”
Two of the tanks reached the road.
“Mortar fire!”
The mortar shells bounced around the tanks. One scored a direct hit. They did nothing to deter the German barrage.
Good God! Andrei thought. How can I stop them?
... four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve. All the tanks were in position now, hitting them from three hundred meters.
“Dismount! Take your horses back and hitch them! Form a staggered firing line.”
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
Barks of thin trees burst into flame. A dozen horses cried in terror and several broke from the woods. Company A hid behind the cover of the trees. Only Captain Androfski and Batory stayed forward to observe.
The German tanks groaned into motion toward the bottom of the knoll. “Machine gunners! Give it to them. Shoot for the turrets!”
The machine guns hit into the tanks, and their bullets bounced off like annoying little ant pricks.
“Captain! Airplanes!”
The black vultures streaked over the treetops and screamed down on the woods. The planes flew low, dropping fire bombs, and the woods went up like a torch. A second flight of planes vomited