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| - A pro forma attack |
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| Documents and Articles - Memoirs | ||
A "pro forma" attackFor two weeks now our Guards brigade is fighting alongside a brigade of naval infantry. We each take turns to lead the attack against the German defenses while the other unit replenishes itself. This time, it's the naval infantry's turn, and they mount a particularly inspired attack. They always did it differently from us - we attacked in complete silence, while their loud "Urrra-a-a!" made even our skin crawl, and technically we were behind them. It's almost as if you couldn't stop them, that even their wounded would keep crawling forward until they tore the enemy apart with their teeth (these days, paranormal experts would call it a "massive energy wave" rolling before the attacking infantrymen, suppressing and scattering any opposition - L.V.). It was just like that this morning. First the Germans fell back from their trenches, then from some warehouses in front of the township, then from the township itself. They were in such a panic that they left behind a truck loaded with bottles of schnapps. Skeptics later claimed that they have done so on purpose. Regardless, within the hour all the surviving attackers drank themselves to unconsciousness. When the Germans counterattacked a little while later, there was no-one left to repel them, and they retook the township. Those infantrymen sprawled out in the open were shot where they lay, while the ones sleeping it off in backyards and other hidden places remained undiscovered for the time being. While this was taking place, our brigade had started to occupy the abandoned German trenches and the scout platoon deployed forward to one of the warehouses. One of the naval infantrymen ran back from the township and told us what happened. The platoon commander took him down to HQ, then came back an hour later and told me: - Leonid, take the platoon and lead an attack. He chose me quite deliberately. I was a conscientious, na?ve 18-year old kid, a member of the Komsomol who, if that wasn't enough, wanted to prove his bravery to his comrades. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that we had to attack the township and rescue the naval infantry. I started getting ready, when suddenly I noticed that my platoon has disappeared - the guys "camouflaged" themselves as soon as the commander came back from HQ. - Vanja, where's the platoon? Who do I attack with? He looked around and took note that the platoon has, indeed, disappeared. - Take the partisans - he said. A small band of partisans was attached to our platoon a few days ago after we liberated Mineralnye Vody. - Vanja, how am I supposed to attack with just seven guys? - What can you do - you'll have to manage somehow. It's an order straight from the HQ. And the battalion is just getting up to the frontline. Go on, don't worry, they'll support you. - Follow me! - I ordered the partisans and dashed out of the warehouse. The partisans followed. We ran for about a hundred meters before the Germans started shooting, then went to ground. The second dash was made under fire, and so we had to go down after thirty meters. I took time to plan my next run - mentally marked out a spot about twenty meters ahead where I'd drop, and a small depression nearby into which I could crawl to get some cover. Everything happened exactly as I planned it - and now I'm hugging the ground in the little depression, apparently a former puddle, and suddenly I feel that something just isn't quite right. I look back without lifting my head from the ground and see that I'm alone. The partisans, unused to open combat, lost their nerve and disappeared. And so now I'm stuck all alone in the middle of some township square. The Germans are shooting at me from the nearest houses, about two hundred meters away. I shift my spare ammo disc to my side and try to push myself further into the former puddle. The brain is working feverishly: - What to do? Get up and run all the way back? That won't work, they'll just shoot you down. Open fire on the Germans - they're close enough, and very visible. The instinct for self-preservation kicks in: - So you'll kill a few Germans, but then they'll never let up until you're dead. Finally, I decide to just play dead. After a while, the Germans stop shooting, I quickly glance in their direction and see them concentrating near the houses, getting ready to attack. I figure I need to scram before I become the attack's first casualty - I look around, and see a chicken coop about thirty-forty meters to the left and a bit back. I wait for an opportune moment, then suddenly jump up and leg it for the coop as fast as I can, and finally drop behind one of the walls. The Germans start shooting again, the bullets are punching right through the clay walls but it's not aimed fire this time, not as dangerous. When the shooting finally dies down, I wait for another half hour or so, and start running back to the warehouse, swerving like a rabbit trying to throw the hounds off my trail. The Germans are still too busy getting ready for the counterattack, and almost completely ignore me. Back in the warehouse I find the platoon commander and tell him about the failed attack. I'm shocked as he praises my efforts instead of berating me. Later on, an acquaintance working comms at the HQ told me the battalion CO sent a report to his superiors that the order to counterattack the township was carried out, but that the battalion was repulsed. After hearing that I understood that at the front, some attacks are made "pro forma".
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