Chapter 328
Colonel Howard, Paratrooper and acting commander of the 6th Airborne Brigade turned just in time to see the Hanomag half-track that had tried to rush his Command post be exploded by two PIAT rounds. It had been of the sort with the 3.7 PAK instead of the machine gun so one of the rockets must have hit the ready ammunition. He looked around to observe the fierce battle the Paras were fighting all around him.
They were three miles from the drop zone and six from their objective, the Bridge was surely blown by now and the Germans seemed to have most of the Großdeutschland Division around the one scattered brigade of Paras.
Ack-ack just as they crossed the river had scattered the brigade badly but in the four hours since the landing most of the men that had not been captured or survived thus far had managed to find their way towards the largest concentration of gunfire which happened to be Howard with the bulk of his Regiment and parts of the 101st.
Brigade Command along with the entirety of the HQ company was simply missing, (and would not turn up thanks to the Brigadier crashing into a Hanomag upon landing) and thus Howard, as the most senior Officer who was in any shape to command had been granted command of the pocket he found himself in and since a lot of the wireless sets still worked men began to gravitate to him.
Overall the two Regiments were at roughly seventy percent strength of one such unit and now several hours after landing bits of two others had appeared.
Howard however was unhappy. 101st was also missing it's commander and the Germans...
"Sir, they are massing again!" came the yell from the lookout atop the hill the CP was nestled against. Howard suffered from a broken ankle and couldn't climb up himself.
“Where?”
“By the hollow road, Sir!”
By that the lookout meant a sunken, hollowed out road that ran roughly parallel to the road that led from the objective north-east into the hills and it was one of the key positions in the tiny perimeter held by the Paras.
“HIGGINS!” Howard yelled for his wireless operator.
“Sir!”
“Get that chap from the 101st on the blower. Tell him we have incoming Gerries towards his position and a whole bloody lot of them by the sound of it.”
Before the operator could say anything they could hear two muffled explosions from that direction that were clearly the shaped charges of a PIAT.
“It seems as if Lieutenant Winters already knows, Colonel.”
“That he does,” Howard nodded, 'and he should be a Captain by all rights.' he thought.
“Now then Higgins,” he went on, “How are Frost and 2 Battalion coming along with plugging that gap these gents came in though?”
Howard gestured towards the burning Hanomag.
“Red Horse Six-two-Baker, this is Red Horse Six Actual, report progress, over.”
The crackling voice of Captain Frost was heard: “This is Six-two-Baker, we have the objective in sight and are mopping up the previous owners as we speak.”
It was a farmhouse that was the key to this part of the perimeter as it commanded the only crossing over a creek. The previous troops there, a group of men from the Canadian Parachute Regiment had been forced out as they had not had any PIATs. Taking out Hanomags with nothing bigger than a hand grenade wasn't the easiest thing to do.
Howard kicked himself for overlooking how vital that crossing was and now there would be half a Battalion when the Germans came again instead of two squads, and they would have PIATs.
One of Captain Frost's men during the defence of the Farmhouse
So now that the gap in the perimeter was plugged the situation went from utterly and totally hopeless to merely hopeless.
The pocket was located in the low hills north of the Danube between a line of hills and the creek, with between half and a third of the perimeter being anchored on the farmhouse (defended by the 101st since theirs was the weaker of the two Regiments) with Howard's own 1st Parachute Regiment (Royal Gurkha Rifles) with attached flotsam from other units holding a dangerously weak perimeter in the hills.
To say that the situation was a bit dicey would be understating things on a level unknown even for the most British of men and Howard was aware of that. One good thing was that they still had a goodly supply of ammunition, as the gliders that had carried their combat reloads (and that were supposed to sustain a reinforced full-strength Brigade for up to a week) had landed within the perimeter, so .303, 9mm and PIAT rounds were had in plenty.
Still, the Paras were understrength and tired, but they needed to hold this relatively flat area of ground for as long as they could if there was to be any chance that the rest of the Division followed.
Howard considered this as unlikely at best but there was even less hope that the tired Paras seized the objective from what by now had to be at least a full brigade from the Großdeutschland judging by the number of different units identified.
But right now he had to worry about defeating that attack. Frost who had taken over command of 2 Battalion of the 101st Regiment after the demise of the old CO some two hours ago could be trusted to hold the creek until he was either dead or had nothing to shoot with.
Cursing so vividly even the most stereotypical Colour Sergeant in any Line Infantry Regiment would have been taken aback Howard humpled to the sunken road where some of the Americans were inflicting terrible casualties on the Germans but the Half-tracks, sporting Anti-Tank and 75mm Infantry Support guns allowed them to advance closer and closer to the position of the British Paras in any case.
Howard saw just how serious the situation could be there and moved the last of his reserves, a half-strength company of the Canadian Parachute Regiment towards that area. Mortars.
“I would give my left arm for a pair of crates of bloody 3 inch shells.”
The one thing they did not have was an excess of mortar shells. High explosive that is. The glider carrying most of the 1 Para's shells had landed in the creek and spoiled them all, whilst the 101st was plain missing theirs along with their CO. So 6 Para Brigade was limited to the shells the mortar gunners carried with them, two crates that had been on top in the glider and saved before they had gotten wet. What they did have in abundance were smoke shells but these couldn't cut down Infantry in large masses.
“Maybe I can help you there, Sir.”
Howard turned, ignoring the stab of pain from his ankle. He knew the voice and the accent all too well.
And true enough, a grinning Anthony McAuliffe was standing there, one hand up in a semi-serious US-Style salute and the other on the butt of his service pistol on his belt.
“Bloody hell Anthony, it's damn good to see you.” Howard said and stepped closer to the other Officer.
“It's only one crate, we lost the other one..”
But Howard was beyond complaining for he saw something else that was worth even more than mortar shells. Between them on a requisitioned cart they carried... a long range wireless transmitter. The backpack sets the Paras had were new and not very long ranged but the transmitter McAuliffe and his men had brought had enough power to reach Division even if they were still sitting around Vienna.
So in Vienna General Gale was almost ready to mourn the loss of most of his Division. He was pacing up and down the airfield after Corps had stopped the launch of the Brigade and most of the support troops about half-way through when things had gone totally out of hand and now he was down ten percent (which had been beyond the point of no return) of his strength with the other half of his Division surrounded. At least he could now talk with Howard and there was only one thing he could do.
He kept requesting permission to launch and land the rest of the Division where the gliders had come down. The plan to land the paras almost three hours after the gliders had been stupid and he had repeatedly argued against it.
Overconfidence, that was what it had been. Of course the enemy would sit back and not try to seriously hinder the gliders or god forbid try to actually overrun 6 Brigade while the parachute units prepared to launch. Nor would the enemy send every fighter plane up to intercept any eventual follow on waves. One thing that seemed to be going into the Allies' favour was that the main attacks at the river crossings by conventional forces drew the enemy ground attack planes away from the embattled Paras.
The door of the comms hut flew open. His second in command came and only nodded.
Ten minutes later dozens of Dakotas engaged their engines one by one and slowly taxied towards takeoff.
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