Devils with Wings (2 page)

These elite soldiers had been bounced, by the supposed less experienced and less professional Polish Army.

Fire now started to come in from both flanks. It appeared there was more than one point of assault and the initial unit in front of the gun groups was not alone.

“Feldwebel, we need to pull back and try and counter attack their flank,” Bier shouted above the surging sound, “if we stay here we’ll be overrun. Stay with the gun groups and I’ll pull one of the rifle troops out of line.”

“Get going sir, we’ll hold here,” yelled Manke above the tumultuous sound of the gunfire coming towards them and the additional noise of the paratroopers returning fire.

The Polish force, numbering some one hundred men, had split into two assault teams, outnumbering Biers men by some three to one. They were currently skirmishing up the north face of the hill.

One polish platoon, currently pinned down by the quick reaction of the two German gun groups, throwing out twelve hundred rounds per minute between them, could not make any headway.

But the second Polish platoon, numbering over sixty men, was trying to outflank the paratroopers’ position by attacking the left flank where the two rifle troops were situated.

Bier had no option, if he was to recover the situation, but to counter the Polish attack by getting around their flanks and attacking them from the side and from behind.

If his men were forced to retreat, it would not only put them at a disadvantage, particularly as they would have to pull back down the reverse slope, but more importantly they would be failing their comrades currently moving into assault positions down below.

If the Polish soldiers were able to secure the hilltop, they would then be able to pour a devastating fusillade of fire down on the Fallschirmjager preparing to assault their Polish comrades and also act as spotters to bring down a barrage of artillery fire.

Once Manke’s two gun groups were returning effective fire and giving covering fire to Biers’ men, Bier ordered one of the two remaining rifle troops to pull back.

“Feinberg, pull your troop back!” bellowed Bier.

“Get them below the crest of the hill quickly!”

Biers eyes were darting left and right, trying to absorb all that was happening and counter with an expedient response.

The troop pulled back in good order, but the men were nervously looking over their shoulders checking that the enemy was not in hot pursuit behind them. The remaining troop was holding its own, but for how long, thought Bier? Would he have time to out flank the enemy?

On the outside he appeared calm and composed to his men, but on the inside his stomach churned and his mind raced with inner doubt.

“Feinberg,” called Bier to the Unteroffizier in charge of the rifle troop pulling back. He continued to rapidly make his way around the hill, talking to the Unteroffizier as they ran.

“Once we can see the enemy,” he said breathlessly, “I want you to take four men forward about five metres, hit the deck and keep the Poles busy, keep their heads down! I will take the remaining men around and behind them. Keep your eyes peeled for us though,” shouted Bier, ensuring all heard what he had just said. The last thing he wanted was his own men firing on him.

His heart was pounding, throbbing in his ears, his mind racing, constantly questioning his actions. But he kept any doubts under control, he needed to keep it together, keep his troop together and get his platoon out of this with minimum casualties.

They continued to skirt round the hill. The firing from their comrades rattling on the hilltop, although still incessant, was diminishing in sound and the resonance of the firing from the Polish soldiers assaulting the hill was increasing. The gun groups could hold their own for a while, but ammunition was not limitless and barrel changes would be needed soon.

But the rifle troop of twelve men would be under considerable pressure and if the Poles were able to bring a light machine gun to bear down on them they may well buckle. If the rifle troop gave way to their Polish attackers, the enemy would be able to roll up the rest of the platoon’s flanks with relative ease.

“Sir,” hissed a paratrooper directly at Biers side.

“There they are,” said the paratrooper pointing to Polish soldiers advancing on their comrades they had left behind on top of the hill.

“Right, Feinberg,” he instructed, “take your men forward and give them hell. The rest of you with me.”

“Right sir, and good luck.”

Feinberg took his men forward onto the right flank of the attacking Polish platoon and Bier took the remaining eight paratroopers with him, moving slightly lower down the hill to continue around and come up behind the enemy.

He heard Feinberg and his men open fire, and smiling, thought of the horror on the faces of the Polish platoon to suddenly find paratroopers firing at their flank.

In a few seconds they would get a second surprise as he and his men came at them from the rear.

Suddenly they were there, the Polish troops right in front of them.

“Spread out in a line,” called Bier to his men.

He prayed to god that Feinberg would see his comrades approaching the enemy’s tail end, otherwise it could all rebound back on them and the advantage gained could very well turn into a catastrophe.

Suddenly there was a Polish korporal in front of him. The look of astonishment on the soldier’s face, as he twisted to look at his attacker and the look of shock in his eyes said it all for Bier, they had caught the Polish completely by surprise.

They had believed themselves close to taking out the impudent paratroopers on the hill and the last thing they expected were more paratroopers coming at them from the side and from behind.

Their Commander could not have been in combat before, or was not well trained; otherwise he would have sent part of his force to do exactly what Bier was doing now.

When the Erma machine pistol reverberated in Bier’s hands, and as the rounds exited the short, blue, gunmetal barrel, the surprise on the soldier’s face turned to complete terror as the bullets took the korporal in the side knocking him down.

Bier stepped over the stricken soldier, he didn’t stop to check whether or not he was dead, he didn’t have time. He was now in the thick of it and had to concentrate on the other enemy soldiers appearing in front of him, track the position of his soldiers around him and keep alert for his men still firing down from the hill top.

The paratroopers had the advantage and the Polish platoon was in chaos. Out of the eight paratroopers with Bier, two had machine pistols. Although the rifles were effective at long range, the machine pistols came into their own in close combat. They were proving to be murderous at this close range, scything through the polish ranks less than ten paces away from them. They panicked, falling back, confused at the events that were unfolding, trying to escape the onslaught that was being unleashed upon them.

“Keep pushing them back,” screamed Bier to his men. “We mustn’t lose the momentum.”

Bier held back, letting his men continue to route the Polish troops. He sought out Feinberg, seeing him further up the hill to his right. He saw him stand up, look straight at him, then turn and call down to his men to cease-fire.

If Feinberg’s men continued to fire at the retreating Polish troops they would soon be in danger of hitting their own men. If they fired even further to the right, there was the prospect of them hitting the paratroopers manning the MG 34s.

Feinberg yelled to his men to remain in position, while he ran to warn the rest of the platoon what was happening.

Bier saw Feinberg running east and guessed he was going to warn the gun groups and the rifle troops of the current position of Bier’s troop.

Bier continued to move his men forward, mopping up the Polish soldiers.

The Polish soldiers were completely demoralised, as if being attacked from three sides wasn’t enough, but to then collide with their other platoon, the one assaulting the German machine gun position, matters just got worse for them.

The distraction the retreating soldiers caused crashing into their ranks, exposing both platoons to Bier’s men on their flank and the crippling fire from the MG 34s, was just too much.

This was the last straw and the remnants of the two Polish platoons, in complete disarray, retreated down the hill they had earlier advanced up, in confidence, pursued by the firepower of the German MG 34s.

Bier shouted. “Cease fire! Cease fire!”

There was too much confusion now and the current victory could quickly turn into a tragedy if a paratrooper was killed by one of his own men.

The firing ceased; there was a sudden unmistakable silence, apart from a ringing in the ears as a result of the close combat conditions. The smell of cordite was almost tangible; it invaded the nostrils and left a bitter taste in the mouth.

Bier looked about him, Polish soldiers were lying scattered around him, many dead and even more wounded. What must have been seen as a certain victory to the Polish force was now a defeat of the worst kind.

Looking up his gaze met with Feldwebel Manke, the shocked look on his face reflecting how Bier himself felt about the carnage that lay before them.

Bier dreaded to think what the casualty count was and was even more concerned for his own men. Had this attack not been repulsed, had he not acted quickly and counterattacked the Polish unit before they had got a real advantage, then it could have been he and his men retreating, he and his men lying scattered around dead and wounded and he would have failed his comrades below.

Bier instructed the troop under his command to check the Polish dead and wounded and went immediately to seek out Feldwebel Manke.

It was over, they had won. They had held their position and were still able to provide cover for the operation being conducted below, but it wasn’t without cost.

At least three paratroopers were dead and eight wounded, some of the wounded would not make it through the night.

Had the Polish troops got to the hilltop sooner, prior to the Paratroopers, then the entire operation would have been in jeopardy. It was a close call, but they had triumphed.

Feldwebel Manke reported to Oberleutnant Bier that the wounded were being treated and the platoon had re-armed and were in position to again provide cover for the units below. Just as he had finished, they both heard gunfire from the East of the woods, the action below them had clearly started.

CHAPTER TWO

The German Polish attack plan was ‘Fall Weiss’, where two Army Groups, North and South would conduct a pincer movement, cutting western Poland off at a point east of Warsaw.

The Treaty of Versailles had created Poland, in order that areas that had once belonged to the losers, specifically Germany, Russia, Austria and Hungary, could be reunited. France and Britain had an expectation to form a strong Allied country on the eastern borders of Germany, in effect exposing Germany to two fronts; previously this had proven to be Germany’s Achilles heel.

Poland felt herself to be a strong country in her own right. With an army of over a million men, supported by over four hundred aircraft, eight hundred tanks and four thousand artillery pieces, Poland was a force to be reckoned with and with Britain’s and France’s vow to come to her aid in the event of war, Poland even felt unconquerable.

Hitler though wanted the old Provinces of Silesia and Poznan back, along with the establishment of a corridor to Danzig. Britain and France did nothing to assist the Poles, although they could have attacked Germany from the West while the main German army was tied up fighting the war against Poland, but it failed to do so. Although militarily stronger than the German Army, neither France nor Britain relished an all out war with Germany.

At precisely four forty five, on the first of September nineteen thirty-nine, German tanks thundered across the Polish border. Less than four hours later, Britain and France presented Hitler with a final demand to withdraw from Poland without delay or they would declare themselves at war with Germany.

Sixteen days after the initial invasion of Poland by Germany, on the seventeenth of September, the Soviet Union invaded Poland from the East, as per the non-aggression pact between Germany and the Soviet Union and the signing of the Molotov-Ribbentrop agreement. This secret protocol divided Northern and Eastern Europe into German and Soviet Spheres of Influence. Part of that being the division of Poland between Germany and the Soviet Union.

Army Group South, led by Generaloberst Gerd Von Rundstedt attacked from Silesia and Monrovia and quickly swept all Polish opposition aside. On the sixth of September they took Krakow and were closing in on Warsaw. By the ninth, elements of Army Group South had reached the River Vistula, near the City of Pulawy.

The Germans were making rapid progress and three weeks later the first Battalion, of the first Fallschirmjager Regiment, was about to cut its teeth on the Polish Army.

Paul, Erich and Helmut, three officers with the Fallschirmjager, were delighted at the news that they were at war with Britain. Hot-headed young men that they were now, they would soon come to realise the full consequences of what Hitler had started.

On the twenty first, during another unexpected dry, autumn day, their Battalion was dispatched to secure Ulez airfield, where a large Polish force was said to be heading. The three Platoon Commanders of the first Company, commanded by Oberleutnant Volkman, were stood around a Steiner jeep contemplating what this latest deployment had in store for them.

“Another bloody hot, dry day,” moaned Helmut to his fellow officers.

“I thought it was meant to be the wet season,” added Erich.

“Stop complaining the both of you,” interrupted Paul,

“If it was pissing down with rain and we were up to our backsides in mud, you would be the first to wish for the heat again!”

“You’re right as always,” laughed Erich

“And what is the forecast for next week then mister weatherman,” added Helmut, punching him playfully on his arm.