Sneak attack, p.4
Sneak Attack,
p.4
“Pedal to the metal, it’s the Panther.”
They heard him shout, “Shit!” but he kept his foot flat on the floorboards, and the Hanomag plowed through the mud and slush, closing the gap with the tank. Logan dropped the ammo belt and reached for the bazooka.
“Cassidy, I have two rockets. After that, we’re toast. If the first one doesn’t destroy that tank, get ready to reload. We’ll have a couple of seconds, no more, before they hit us with their main gun.”
“I’m ready.”
He picked up a spare rocket, ready to reload, and they were getting closer. The main gun of the tank pointed forward, in the opposite direction. To the west, and they were approaching from the east. If Logan could put a rocket up its ass, they could say thank you and good night to the Kraut super weapon; at least until the next German tanks arrived, but they wouldn’t catch them with their pants down. Allied forces would be fully alerted, and they’d shove their swastika flags down their throats.
“Private Byrd, try to keep it steady.”
“Doing my best, Sarge.”
They were one hundred yards from the rear of the armored beast when he launched the rocket. At the same moment as the Hanomag lurched in a deep rut in the track, he staggered, and the rocket tore harmlessly through the trees.
“Cassidy!”
“I’m on it.”
He thrust the second rocket into the tube. Logan put it to his shoulder, but he slipped, dropped the launcher, and slid down to the floor. He groped for the bazooka, scrabbling on his hands and knees, while Cassidy watched the Panther getting closer and closer. Fifty yards away, and the crew had realized they were under attack. The turret started to turn to bring the main gun to bear, and he knew they weren’t going to make it. When that gun pointed at them, 7.5-centimeter shell would crash out from the barrel and tear them into scrap, mixed with fragments of flesh and uniform.
There was a nothing he could do about it, except watch. He heard Logan shout, “I’ve got it!” but it was too late. The gun was halfway around, and in another second or two, smoke and flame would belch from that huge barrel, and they were dead.
Except they weren’t dead. The track was narrow, bordered with trees on both sides, and the gun suddenly stopped turning. The steel barrel rested against a trunk, and there was no way they could turn another inch.
He shouted to Harry. “Hold it, we need to give the Sarge a stable firing platform.”
“Roger that.”
He braked to a halt, and all movement stopped. The Panther was still trying to rotate the gun, and had they tried to drive away, there was a faint chance they may have gone outside the range of the bazooka. They didn’t drive away, and he watched in fascination as the rocket flew straight and true. The armor at the rear was thin, too thin to withstand a direct hit from a bazooka rocket. The projectile went through the armor like it was made of cardboard and exploded inside the hull. If they needed confirmation it was dead, the ammunition that detonated and caused flames to shoot out of the top of the turret was more than enough.
They climbed out of the Hanomag and walked to the burning tank. They stood without speaking, close enough to the flames to feel the heat, and in places the steel hull glowed a dull shade of red.
Finally, Logan glanced at the two men. “You know Bond will give you hell for this. He doesn’t like enlisted men disobeying his orders.”
“You disobeyed his orders,” Cassidy pointed out.
He shook his head emphatically, but his lips had formed a smile. “Me? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“He should be more than satisfied with what we achieved here.”
Logan nodded. “You’re probably right. He’ll probably go easy on you when he has something to brag about in the officers’ mess.”
Cassidy and Byrd swapped glances. Harry grunted. “It’s not fair, Sarge.”
“Not fair? It’s not been fair since the day you joined the 82nd. Get used to it, Private, we have a long way to go before we reach Berlin.”
“I had another idea,” Cassidy told him, “I was thinking about paying a visit to Hitler’s place they call the Berghof.”
“Why the Berghof?”
“I wanted to check out the hunting in those mountains. I believe it’s pretty good.”
“Cassidy, you have a lot to do before we get that far. By the time we reach the mountains, you won’t want to go hunting ever again.”
He shook his head. “Not in a million years, Sarge. And I intend to get Harry interested, it’s a great sport.”
Byrd shuddered. “Not in a hundred lifetimes. It’s too damn cold.”
Eric Meyer, Sneak Attack
