Counterattack, p.4
Counterattack, page 4
Cassidy had eyes for the bridge, and everything had changed. The attack had stalled. Three of the four artillery pieces were reduced to smoking wreckage, and the troops were moving backward, unwilling to go on.
The tank commander, who’d introduced himself as Captain Grayson, grinned at the two Americans. “I think that takes care of your little problem. A pity about Arnhem, but next time we’ll hit them much harder and send them scurrying back to Germany.”
Ray nodded. “Yeah, it’s appreciated. About that Tiger…”
“Yes, you did say something about a Tiger tank in the vicinity. He’ll be a long way away. No Tiger commander would want to take on seven Fireflies. I think we’re done here. We’ll cross the bridge and rejoin our Division.”
Cassidy felt uneasy. “I don’t know, Captain. That Kraut didn’t seem like the type to throw in the towel that easily.”
He clapped him on the back. “You’re wrong, by now he’s a long way away.” He picked up the microphone. “Driver, take us across the bridge. All units, form a column, and follow me.”
The tanks rumbled forward. That was when an 88mm shell whistled out from a half-mile away, and the Firefly behind them exploded.
“Captain, I think he’s still around.”
All eyes looked to the northeast, and Cassidy cursed. He’d done the unexpected, moved the armored monster forward by around fifty yards, and dropped into a shallow depression in the ground so all that showed was the turret and the 88mm gun.
“Captain, do something, for Chrissake. He’s murdering you.”
Another tank exploded, and Grayson looked around, his eyes wild. Bellowing into the microphone for his men to open fire. “Kill that Kraut before it’s too late!”
Every tank fired, but the target was difficult, and even the sixteen-pounder shells failed to score lethal hits when they impacted the massive frontal turret arm.
Cassidy had taken enough, and he looked at Byrd. “I’ve had about enough of that guy. It’s time to put him out of business. Either that, or we stay here while he shoots the shit out of us.”
“Ray, what the hell are you talking about? That’s a Tiger out there, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Follow me.”
They vaulted to the ground and began running back, away from the Nijmegen Bridge. They reached the secondary canal where they’d sheltered yards from the German tank while the crew cooked and ate their breakfast. Ray led them along the canal bank, unnoticed by the tank crew who were too occupied with their destruction of the British armored column. Halfway there, Harry got it.
“The bazooka! That’s what you’re planning.”
“That’s what I’m planning. Now that bastard is far enough from the canal, we can shoot from the bank, and with any luck, he won’t be collecting his pension when this is all over.”
They reached the spot where they’d buried the bazooka, slid down out of sight, and retrieved the weapon from the mud, wiping off the viscous coating. Harry shook his head. “There’s no way it will work, not after it’s been buried in mud.”
“It’ll work.”
Perched at the top of the bank, they had a perfect shot at the rear of the German tank. Both men pictured the Germans gloating at the trap they’d lured the Brits into, and it wasn’t a pretty picture. Cassidy paused to wipe a spot of mud from the optical sight, while Harry did his best to make sure the launch tube was clear, but they were running out of time. Half the British tanks were either destroyed or out of action, with their much-vaunted sixteen-pounder guns having little effect on the massive German armor.
He lined up the crosshairs dead center on the rear of the Tiger. “Fire in the hole.”
He squeezed the trigger, saying a prayer for any God who happened to be looking down on them to save his buddies. Maybe his prayer was answered. Or maybe American ingenuity was more than a match for a Tiger, or at least for the most vulnerable part of a Tiger. The rocket flew straight and true, impacting the hull. The resultant explosion was massive. Harry whooped in glee, but he silenced him.
“Wait until the smoke clears. We need to make sure the rocket penetrated.”
They waited, holding their breath, until a slight wind blew the smoke away. They leaped out into the open, shouting in glee, high-fiving each other as they ran toward the German tank. It was in flames. The rocket had ignited the gasoline, and before they reached it the ammunition began to cook off. They stood back and waited until the explosions and flames died down.
Harry chuckled. “I reckon that’s it. A shame.”
He stared at him, incredulous. “What do you mean, a shame?”
“When the tank went up, it destroyed everything inside. Including that coffee. I was looking forward to having myself to some of those beans.”
“It’s one hell of a way to get a cup of coffee.”
His exuberance had faded, and he looked miserable. “Still, it would’ve been nice.”
Cassidy shook his head in disgust. “Next time, pal, you do it on your own.”
Eric Meyer, Counterattack
