3. The Tank Battle of Prokhorovka
In the early morning of 5th July 1943 Major-General Seidemann saw disaster approaching inescapably. He had just finished dressing when his orderly officer burst into the room: “Message from aircraft reporting service, Herr General.”
Seidemann looked up. “Strong enemy air formations approaching on a course to Kharkov.”
Seidemann glanced at his wrist-watch. He made a rapid mental calculation. Then he grabbed his cap and pistol holster from a hook. “That could be a disaster,” he muttered, and rushed across to the signals bunker.
It was still dark outside. But in 10 to 15 minutes dawn would begin to break. And in exactly 10 minutes the machines of VIII Air Corps would take off from their 16 airfields around Kharkov. It did not bear thinking of.
His staff officers were already assembled in the signals bunker, clutching telephones to their ears. They looked up as the general entered, for at that same moment the first flak guns opened up in the village of Mikoyanovka, where VIII Air Corps had its advanced HQ.
A moment later the general and his officers would hear the mighty stream of Soviet formations droning overhead. They were making for Kharkov, for the crowed German airfields.
On these airfields the German Stukas, bombers, ground-support aircraft, and tank-bursting units – roughly 800 machines – were just moving into take-off position to inaugurate the offensive on the southern front with crushing blows from the air and to supply the constant air support for Hoth’s Forth Panzer Army to break through the strong Soviet defences.
This was the plan: The German bomber and ground-support aircraft were first to assemble over the fields, formation by formation and only then were the 270 fighters to take off to provide cover for the strike aircraft.
This then was the vulnerable spot of VIII Air Corps on the morning of 5th July. These were the minutes during which Seidemann’s huge fleet was defenceless – the runways crowded with bombers, and those already in the air not yet protected by fighters. The Soviet High Command had skillfully chosen that precise time for its annihilating blow against the German airpower on the southern front of Citadel. It was cleverly conceived and accurately calculated. It was here that Werther’s invaluable information was to yield its sweetest fruit.
Seidemann and his officers instantly realized the disastrous situation as the Russian bomber streams and fighter squadrons were sweeping over Mikoyanovka. The general knew as well as each one of his staff officers that it was too late now to intervene in the course of events on the airfields. Either the German formations about to take off would be smashed on the ground by the bombs of the Soviet squadrons or else they would be shot down in the air by Soviet fighters.
With a deep roar the disaster was approaching at a height of 10,000 feet. Among the Soviet fighter squadrons with their Migs and Yaks there were also American Aircobras.
The Soviet airmen had taken off in darkness from the fields of the Soviet Second and Seventeenth Air Armies in the Kursk and Oboyan area, and even from areas south of Moscow. They were flying in the secure knowledge that their calculation was correct. This time they would repay the feared German Luftwaffe for all its blows during the past years. A few minutes, a few accurately calculate minutes, would ensure victory in the air over the Kursk salient.
And this precisely calculated victory, the Soviets concluded, would deprive Manstein’s armies of their air cover; it would rob them of their third dimension and thus doom their offensive on the southern front of Kursk even before the first German grenadier had jumped from his dug-out.
How had the Soviets been able to make this accurate calculation? This was the question which oppressed Seidemann and his officers. On the German side all precautions had been taken and all known tricks used in order to keep the secret. Naturally, it was impossible to hide all preparations from Soviet aerial reconnaissance or form Soviet agents in the hinterland. Airfields, especially dozens of them concentrated in a small area, could not be camouflaged. Nevertheless, the German Luftwaffe High Command had done everything possible to conceal the concentration of 1800 aircraft, about 19,000 heavy and light anti-aircraft guns, and 300 searchlights immediately behind the front line.
This had not been an easy task. After all, the 1st Air Division had to be moved into position for the northern sector in the Orel area, and in the south, in the Kharkov area, VIII Air Corps with its 1185 aircraft and I Flak Corps, reinforced by a flak brigade, had likewise to be brought up.
The 1200 aircraft within Manstein’s sphere of command alone required 16 airfields in the Kharkov area. That was a dangerous concentration.
The aircraft were parked in boxes as far apart as possible, and surrounded with makeshift anti-splinter cover. Bombs and fuel were stored in trenches. Camouflage by means of nets and shrubs, checked from the air every day, were to render aerial reconnaissance more difficult.
To render discovery more difficult was one thing – but to hide such a concentration of air power altogether was impossible. Even the fact that the bulk of the machines were not to arrive at the forward fields until the night before the attack was not likely to deceive any reasonably efficient aerial reconnaissance. Besides, what was the use of all these measures if the enemy knew the secrets of the front through well-organized espionage inside the Fuhrer’s headquarters?
The Soviets knew the date and the general plan of the German offensive. And they knew only too well that ground operations would be supported by massive blows from the air. Knowledge of the focal points of the offensive, together with the results of aerial reconnaissance, gave them a good idea of the German preparations for their air strike.
At first light on 5th July, as the bomber formations of the Soviet Seventeenth Air Army roared over General Seidemann’s battle headquarters, everything pointed to the success of the Soviet plan. But their calculation did not come off. Once again it was shown that all military calculations contain some unknown quantity. Over Kursk it had the name of a Nordic deity.
The Luftwaffe’s radar instruments, which bore the name of the Goddess Freya, succeeded in locating the approaching enemy formations at a range of over sixty miles, complete with direction and altitude.
These Freya radar installations at the airfields spotted the approaching Soviet formations only just in time. Their reports immediately went to the flak units and to the command posts of the fighter units and groups. It had the effect of a thunderbolt on the fields around Kharkov and the provisional air bases around Belgorod. The commodores and their young commanders realized what was happening. No questions were necessary.
Signals to Corps? Impossible. Radio silence had been ordered. Besides, what was the point of asking? It was one of those moments were responsibility had to be taken without asking questions.
What happened then on all these airfields was an example of soldierly skill: quick telephone conversations between the leaders of the fighter formations and the airfield control officers.
“Enemy attack?”
“Disregard schedule. We take off at once. Scramble!”
And already the pilots were racing to their machines. A moment later the flights moved off, bumping over the temporary runways. The engines screamed. The fighters of Kursk were airborne.
These few minutes decided the battle. Out of the dawn haze the German fighters pounced down on the Soviet bomber squadrons flying at 10,000 feet.
In the rays of the rising sun the spectacle of a vast air battle could be followed from the ground.
For the Soviet fighters the altitude of 6000 to 10,000 feet was particularly unfavourable. At that height the German Messerschmitt fighters were clearly superior to them. In flames, trailing smoke, and exploding, the Soviet aircraft crashed to the ground. Only a few of the bombers reached the German airfields, and those which did dropped their bombs without aim, causing only slight damage.
In the very first moment of the air battle the Russians lost 120 machines. By the end of the day the score was 432, and 24 hours later it had grown by a further 205. Thus Seidemann’s VIII Air Corps not only successfully repulsed a dangerous enemy air offensive but also gained command of the air on the southern sector. Unopposed his bombers and ground-support aircraft started their big blow against the Soviet defensive front. Wave after wave, they blazed a trail for the German attack on the ground.
Among the Stuka formations which were pounding the Soviet switchlines on the Belgorod-Oboyan road ahead of the tanks of SS Panzer Corps was also a pilot whose name was well-known on both sides of the line – Hans Ulrich Rudel. Wherever he was was the focus of the battle.
The foremost companies of SS Panzer Corps were in the town in front of the well-camouflaged anti-tank and artillery positions of the Soviet 52nd Guards Rifle Division. Rudel saw the dug-in T-34s, he saw the 7.62-cm anti-tank guns, he saw the mortar batteries and the heavy armoured guns on self-propelled carriages with their huge barrels for firing 15.2-cm shells – giant guns employed by the Soviets for the first time at Kursk.
This barrier, this decisive ‘centre of resistance’ in the Berezov area, had to be breached.
The Stukas dipped. Their bombs crashed on their targets. Rudel, catching sight of an approaching enemy tank column when he had no bombs left, remembered his old practice Stuka with its anti-tank cannon. And he conceived an idea that was to give the Russians many a headache yet.
Meanwhile the first wave of ground-support aircraft approached at 2500 feet. Into the target area they dropped the new SD-1 and SD-2 bombs – large and small containers shaped like bombs but containing 180 2-kg or 360 1-kg bombs. These containers opened just above the ground, scattering the high-fragmentation mini-bombs among the emeny positions like a rain of death.
The effect was disastrous. The heavily manned Soviet anti-tank positions were largely put out of action by these attacks. The hills and valleys held by the reinforced 151st and 155th Guards Rifle Regiments were one vast sea of flames.
At 1100 hours fifty German tanks broke through at 155th Guards Rifle Regiment, wheeled westward and rolled up the front of 151st Guards Rifle Regiment. The Soviet barrier covering the Belgorod-Kursk highway was burst open. The attack continued at full speed.
At noon on 6th July the “Der Fuhrer” Regiment took the village of Luchki I. This put General Hausser’s SS Panzer Corps twenty miles deep into the enemy’s defence zone. A huge gap had been torn into General Chistyakov’s Sixth Guards Army and the front line lay wide open like a barn door. Through that door Hausser now drove everything he had. The offensive had as much dash as those in the heyday of the blitzkrieg.
On 7th July tanks and assault guns crossed the Luchki II-Teterevino road. The battalions fanned out to east and west into the open space. Parts of the “Leibstandarte” and “Totenkopf” Regiments now aimed at the Psel bend and at Greznoye broke into the last Soviet defence lines in front of the river.
Among their foremost tanks was the 6th Company, 1st SS Panzer Regiment. Its commander was Rudolf von Ribbentrop, the son of the German Foreign Minister. Ribbentrop’s tank raced ahead of his company and cleared a path through the Soviet area in the direction of Greznoye. Shock troops of the “Deutschland” Regiment and companies of the “Der Fuhrer” Regiment now wheeled east and attacked Prokhorovka. Artillery and mortars supported the thrust against the key positions on the wide neck of land between Psel and Donets.
The Soviet High Command of the Voronezh Front Army Group was horror-struck at this surprise development. There was no other word for it – the front of Sixth Guards Army had been crushed. Only sporadic centres of resistance were still holding out.
The Commander-in-Chief issued one of those categorical commands known to generals of all armies, the kind of command which reveals the highest degree of alarm. Army General Vatutin and his Military Council member Nikita Khrushchev signed the signal. It read: "On no account must the Germans break through to Oboyan."
The signal was received by General Katukov's First Tank Army, among others. Its chief of staff, Major-General Shalin, read it out. And Katukov immediately switched two armoured infantry regiments into the gap in the front of the Sixth Guards Army. "After two hours all that was left of them was their numbers," records Lieutenant-General Popel, the Military Council member of First Tank Army.
In the evening Khrushchev personally turned up at First Tank Army headquarters. "The next two or three days will be terrible," he said. "Either we hold out, or the Germans take Kursk. They are staking everything on this one card. For them it is a matter of life or death. We must see to it that they break their necks!"
At the situation meeting in the evening, Major-General Shalin observed soberly: "We are confronted by an unprecedented concentration of armour. It is the old tactic. But this time the armoured spearheads are led by Tigers, Panthers, and massive assault guns. The cannon of our T -34s cannot pierce the frontal armour of the fascists' giants." Another point made by Shalin on the strength of a dozen written reports was this: the German Luftwaffe was employing new ground-support aircraft fitted with anti-tank cannon. These were employed as a kind of flying anti-tank artillery, pouncing from the sky at the tanks like hawks pouncing on a chicken-yard. Armoured counterattacks were thus shot up by the surprise intervention of these machines. Getman's Soviet tank corps had suffered most. Twelve of its T-34s were knocked out within a very short period by just one of those flying tank-busters.
The account of a Russian artillery observer sounds almost incredible. The attacking aircraft drops from some 2500 feet upon the unsuspecting armoured column. Not until he is within fifteen feet of the last tank does the pilot pull out of his dive. The crack of cannon, a flash, a crash, and through the billowing smoke of the struck T -34 the German pilot climbs away: A moment later he dives in again. Always from behind. Tank after tank is knocked out by his cannon, the target invariably being its most vulnerable spot, the engine compartment, where each hit results in an instant explosion.
General Shalin did not yet know the name of the man who had achieved this feat. It was Hans-Ulrich Rudel, who had rapidly put into effect the idea which came to him on his return flight from his first mission on 5th July. He had tries these tactics out before, in the Crimea, and his old experimental machine was still in existence. He had ordered it to be flown up to him – his Stuka with an anti-tank gun.
It was here, in the Kursk salient, that Rudel’s tank-bursting wing was born – Stukas carrying 3.7-cm anti-tank cannon. Together with the new twin-engined Hs-129 armoured ground-support aircraft they intervened in the tank battles with astonishing success.
On the left of Hausser’s Waffen SS, at XLVIII Panzer Corps, progress continued to be good on 7th July, the fourth day of the great battle. At dawn the grenadiers of “Grossdeutschland” took Dubrova.
But the misfortunes which had been dogging the Panthers of “Grossdeutschland” Division since the first day of the offensive were not yet at an end. Lauchert’s Panther Brigade again blundered into a minefield and suffered very heavy losses.
Captain von Gottberg’s 2nd Battalion, Panzer Regiment “Grossdeutschland”, saved the situation. It swept the grenadiers of Remer’s battalion with it. The attack got moving again. From the ravines on the left wing of the division the battalion of the Panzer Fusilier Regiment also burst forward. In a bold, concerted action the main defensive line of General Krivoshein’s mechanized corps was torn open. The crumbling remains of Sixth Guards Army, employed on Krivoshein’s front, withdrew in a disorderly fashion, were caught by German artillery, and suffered extremely heavy losses. Krivoshein’s brigade and the neighbouring VI Tank Corps were unable to halt the panic and the collapse. They fell back to Syrtsevo on the Pena – the last strongpoint in the last Soviet defences outside Oboyan. Would the river barrier with the fortified country around it halt the German advance on the western flank of the battle? General Krivoshein did not hold out any great hopes, especially as 11th Panzer Division had already fought its way across the Belgorod-Kursk highway and was seizing the patches of woodland to the east of this important road.
In a small dip immediately behind the battle-line General Krivoshein listened to the reports of the runners as they arrived: “The 3rd Company of Kunin’s battalion has lost all its officers. Sergeant Nogayev is in command.” Or “Headquarters of 30th Brigade has received a direct hit. Most officers killed. Brigade commander seriously wounded.”
These were not isolated examples. On other sectors, such as that of 45th Motorized Battalion, things were worse still. Dead. Wounded. Taken prisoner. Overrun.
General Krivoshein tried to halt the German attack by an immediate powerful armoured counter-attack from the fortress of Syrtsevo. That was on Thursday, 8th July, a scorching hot day. Forty T-34s burst out of the little town. But they ran right across the sights of Count Strachwitz’s armoured group and the Tiger company. A fierce duel ensued. The Tigers knocked out ten T-34s.
When the bulk of the Soviet brigade fell back this was like a clarion call for the German troops. The regiments of “Grossdeutschland” moved in to follow up with parts of 3rd Panzer Division, and towards noon penetrated into the heavily fortified little town of Syrtsevo. The Soviets fell back across the river.
Meanwhile, the Armoured Reconnaissance Battalion of “Grossdeutschland”, under Major Watjen, had thrust further to the north. Strong packs of tanks of the Soviet VI Tank Corps, with ten, twenty, or even forty steel monsters, were approaching from the north-east. Since the Reconnaissance Battalion could not get across the weak bridge quickly enough, division instead place it in a semi-circle to cover its right flank in front of Verkhopenye. There, Watjen awaited the enemy’s armoured thrusts. Fortunately he had a battalion of assault guns with him.
Major Frantz, an experienced assault-gun commander, hurled himself with his battalion against the rapidly approaching Soviet tank packs. An engagement followed in which tactical skill out-manoeuvred superior numbers and fire-power. Frantz led his assault guns into favourable positions and lured the Soviets into cunningly baited traps.
The wireless operator and loading number in the battalion commander’s assault gun was Corporal Eberhard, scarcely more than a boy. Today he is a professor. That was his first action. Twenty-four hours previously he had written in his diary: “We are established in a thick forest. Am reading Holderlin.” The language now was no longer one of poetry. “Hatch covers down!” It was semi-dark inside the gun. The corporal brought the radio close to his eyes.
“Nail calling Nail 1, please come in.”
“Nail 1 receiving, please come in.”
And then Corporal Eberhard dictated: “4-18-7-21-4-18-3-9-1. . .” His left foot was wedged between two armour-piercing nose shells and his right leg rested on some percussion fuses. As usual, the gun commander had loaded up with an extra seven or eight shells.
A change of position to another point on the reverse slope gave them a chance of pushing their heads up through the hatch for a moment and breathing some fresh air. Their eyes took in a gentle, grass-covered slope, a field of sunflowers, and a short stretch of road. But already a cloud of dust rose before them. The commander called out: “Close hatch cover! Inform battalion. Wedge formation of T-34s approaching. Point of attack in front of own position, west of highway.”
Eberhard transmitted the message. And Major Frantz laid his traps “Nail 1, please stand by. Nail 3, come in to speak to Nail.”
Signals in rapid succession thus wove the net in which the Russian attack was to be caught. For the young corporal, of course, this was rather like watching an opera with the curtain down. It was his task to translate the major's short, rapid words and orders into numbers from one to twenty-six. And he almost laughed aloud at the ease with which he managed to discharge it. Like rattling off irregular verbs just before the exams, it flashed through his mind.
He called Nail 2 and Nail 3. He used figures to control them. He used figures to warn them. And from these strings of numbers in his earphones and the brief observations exchanged between gun commander, the NCO gun-aimer, and the driver he tried to piece together for himself the picture of the battle.
Together with the T-34s the Russians were also using a few American Mark IIIs. No. 2 Troop had already reported six tanks knocked out. The top scorers were the Section Senkbiel with four. But nothing showed up in front of the commander's gun. The war was more than a mile away. But quite suddenly it was close again. In the shape of T-34 giants.
A pack of T-34s and one Mark III were fast approaching the slope. Sergeant Scheffler had his eyes glued to the driver's visor. The gun-aimer was calmness personified. “Fire!”
Tank after tank was knocked out by the 7.5-cm cannon of the assault gun. The Soviet commanders attacked time and time again. Their wireless traffic showed that they had orders to break open the German lines regardless of cost. Seven times the Russians attacked. Seven times they flung themselves obstinately into Major Frantz's traps.
After three hours, thirty-five wrecked tanks littered the battlefield, smouldering. Only five T-34s, all of them badly damaged, limped away from the smoking arena to seek shelter in a small wood.
Proudly the major signalled to division: "Thirty-five enemy tanks knocked out. No losses on our side."
The road to Verkhopenye on the Pena was clear.
Verkhopenye was strung out along several miles on both sides of the Pena river. It was heavily fortified because of the bridge.
General Hoernlein turned his division towards the west. During the evening grenadiers charged past the church under cover of the last Panthers. They seized the eastern part of the town. They reached the river.
On 9th July the western part of the small town with the bridge over the Pena also fell into German hands. The 6th Panzer Regiment and the motor-cyclist riflemen of 3rd Panzer Division drove the enemy from the locality. Duels between anti-tank guns and Mark IVs, between Panthers and T-34s, characterized the fighting.
The bridge over the Pena was damaged, but the 2nd Company and the bridge-building column of Engineer Battalion 39 repaired it during the night in record time, and by mid-morning on the following day built another 16-ton bridge. Now tracked vehicles were able to cross the river.
Now was the hour of decision.
On the morning of 10th July Colonel Schmidt-Ott thrust south from Hill 258·5 with his Neuruppin 6th Panzer Regiment. Simultaneously, Lieutenant-General Westhoven moved his grenadiers; motor-cyclist riflemen, artillery, assault guns, engineers, and anti-tank guns under Lieutenant-Colonel Wellmann over the bridge. The combat group struck at the enemy's rear and took the commanding heights of Berezovka.
After a long time columns of Soviet prisoners-of-war were again seen trudging towards the rear. In the sector of 3rd Panzer Division there were nearly 2000 of them.
East of the road to Oboyan, Count Schimmelmann's Panzer combat group of 11th Panzer Division was in action. Following Stuka intervention, Hill 260.8 was captured. Along the road itself, the Panzer Fusilier Regiment of "Grossdeutschland" probed forward and gained Hill 244.8, directly on the highway.
The highest point on the approaches to Oboyan had thereby been reached and, at the same time, the deepest penetration made into the Russian front. From the high ground one could see far into the valley of the Psel river, the last natural barrier this side of Kursk. With field-glasses the towers of Oboyan could be made out in the fine haze. Oboyan was the objective.
It seemed within arm's reach. Barely twelve miles away. No distance at all, under normal circumstances, for a fast formation. Would XLVIII Panzer Corps make this last leap?
According to Hoth's carefully worked out timetable the following should now have happened: XLVIII Panzer Corps to strike towards Oboyan and seize the crossings over the Psel. Its bulk to wheel eastward and - before thrusting on to Kursk - to defeat, jointly with Hausser's SS Panzer Corps, the enemy's strategic armoured forces approaching across the strip of land of Prokhorovka.
That was Hoth's plan.
In order to cover the eastern flank of his operation and to prevent any further Soviet tank armies reaching the battlefield from the east, from the Soviet Steppe Front, he had intended the Army Detachment Kempf to move into the strip of land east of Prokhorovka, where the Seym and Donets rivers had their sources, at the beginning of the operation.
But here was the error in Hoth's calculations. Where was Kempf? Where was III Panzer Corps, Breith's corps, which was to have reached the neck of land after crossing the Donets and swiftly wheeling north? Where were the experienced Panzer divisions - the Westphalian 6th, the Thuringian 7th, and the Lower Saxon 19th?
Wherever they were, they were not where they should have been on
9th July in accordance with Hoth's timetable.
And why were they not in their positions? The war diaries of these experienced units under their outstanding commanders contain a dramatic answer to this crucial question. Stiff enemy resistance had held up the advance of the divisions. The Russians had dug narrow trenches, considerably deeper than a man's height, and against these the German artillery was unable to do much. The terrain, moreover, was infested with mines.
As soon as they had crossed the Donets south of Razumnoye, the regiments were involved in heavy fighting by Soviet armoured forces. The grenadiers of 7th Panzer Division heaved a sigh of relief when the 25th Panzer Regiment from Erlangen at last arrived. Heading the long columns of tanks was Lieutenant-Colonel Adalbert Schulz in his command tank.
Lieutenant-Colonel Adalbert Schulz, generally known as "Panzer-Schulz", spread confidence wherever he went. The grenadiers knew that wherever he was nothing went wrong. They now watched him prepare for action. Fan out. Batten down hatches. Advance in a broad wedge. And already the first tank guns were opening up.
Schulz had got right into a Soviet tank assembly position. The enemy commander clearly lacked combat experience. He led his unit nervously, losing the overall view. As darkness fell on the battlefield thirty-four T-34s, a curious play on numbers, were littering the ground around Razumnoye, in flames or smouldering.
But a strong enemy was well established and brilliantly camouflaged in the thick forests on the ridge of high ground. The division was caught in enfilading artillery fire. The Panzer Regiment was unable to help.
But the corps had to move on, move forward, unless the whole plan was to be upset. Manteuffel regrouped. On 8th July he succeeded by means of concentrated forces in breaking through the Russian barrier on the ridge of high ground behind the Donets.
General Breith immediately exploited this success. Since 6th Panzer Division was clearly encountering difficulties in crossing the Donets bridges at Belgorod to schedule, he did not hesitate long. "The main effort has got to be made wherever the front is moving forward," he said to Colonel Merk, his chief of staff. In consequence he also moved 6th Panzer Division into the zone of attack of 7th Panzer Division.
The two divisions now burst forward towards the north-east. To their left, 19th Panzer Division was moving: forward. Along the Donets, 168th Infantry Division was punching its own way ahead; its task was to provide cover for the open flank of the Berlin Panzer Corps.
Over a broad front the Panzer regiments cleared the way for the grenadiers. Panzer-Schulz on the right, Colonel von Oppeln-Bronikowski with his Paderborn 11th Panzer Regiment on the left. Between them was Count von Kageneck's Tiger Battalion 503. An armada of 240 tanks was sweeping towards the enemy positions.
But east of the Donets too the Russians were established in well-built defensive zones echeloned in depth. Anti-tank gun emplacements, minefields, anti-tank ditches were everywhere. Moreover, there were some tricky swamps.
Breith, an experienced and shrewd commander of armoured forces, realized that in the circumstances he would never be able to thrust sufficiently fast or sufficiently far to the east to keep to the timetable. He therefore made the only correct decision and on 8th July wheeled towards the north.
In a small ravine near Yastrebovo Breith met the commander of 6th Panzer Division. The two command tanks halted alongside.
The maps were spread out on the floors of these mobile armoured signals stations. The corps commander's hand brushed towards the top of the map: "Hunersdorff, you will make a thrust to the north and break through. You will cause the enemy's main defensive zone to collapse!"
And Walter von Hunersdorff, one of the boldest and most experienced tank commanders in the Wehrmacht, moved off. He toppled the Soviet defensive positions. He repulsed an attack by Soviet armoured forces near Melekhovo. Together with 19th Panzer Division he encircled two Soviet rifle divisions.
Forward! Without halting, 6th Panzer Division raced on to the upper Donets. Would it get to Prokhorovka in time?
The Soviet High Command realized the danger threatening from this massive thrust along the flank of the operation. Stalin ordered his strategic reserves from the distant Steppe Front to move towards Prokhorovka in forced marches. Would they arrive in time?
Lieutenant Podgorbunskiy jumped out of the way, saluted, and stared after the general in amazement.
No-one had ever seen the chief of staff in such a state. He was normally a calm, stolid person whom nothing could upset. But now he was running through the little ravine which housed the advanced headquarters of First Tank Army, panting, his face purple, and without his cap. He stormed up the slope towards a little wood. He disappeared in the thick undergrowth.
Up there was an artillery observation post. Ceneral Katukov and Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev had gone up there an hour previously. But when Major-General Shalin burst into the command post through its camouflage of branches and foliage, there was only Khrushchev left. Katukov had gone on to the HQ of VI Tank Corps.
"What's up?" Nikita Sergeyevich asked suspiciously on seeing Shalin in a state of utter consternation.
The chief of staff, still trying to recover his breath, wordlessly handed him a piece of paper - a signal on a printed form. It came from General Cherniyenkov's XXXI Tank Corps.
Khrushchev read: "Defences penetrated. Troops in flight and not to be stopped. Usychov." Disaster! Disaster recorded in eleven words.
"Who is that?" Khrushchev asked, his finger excitedly tapping the signature.
"Lieutenant-Colonel Usychov is chief of Signals of XXXI Tank Corps," Shalin replied.
"If his report is correct then nothing can stop the Germans from striking across the Psel at the rear of the First Tank Army," Khrushchev muttered. And what he thought, although he did not utter it, was this: If the Germans strike at the rear of First Tank Army, then the Russian defence must collapse along the southern front of Kursk. That would be the end of the battle of Kursk. That would mean victory for the Germans.
Khrushchev sent off General Popel, the War Council member for the First Tank Army. He was to seek out General Cherniyenkov. Khrushchev meanwhile ran down into the ravine to army headquarters with Shalin, to transmit strict and menacing orders to the corps and brigades of First Tank Army, against all retreat, against cowardice and defeatism.
He then alerted General Vatutin, the C-in-C of the Voronezh Front. Vatutin immediately promised to do something against the main danger, which came from Hausser's SS Panzer Corps. And he was as good as his word.
The Soviet II Guards Tank Corps had a combat group deployed near Gostishchevo, in that gap north-east of Belgorod into which General Kempfs divisions had not yet advanced. It had been placed there to stop Kempfs thrust. But now, at this moment of emergency, Vatutin moved it over to the west.
In a small wood east of the village sixty T-34s and several rifle battalions were assembled. About noon the armada moved off. It moved off against the deep flank of Hausser's unsuspecting corps, against the Belgorod-Oboyan highway, against the supply route of SS Panzer Corps.
Only one pair of German eyes spotted the approaching disaster. Captain Bruno Meyer was leading a formation of three tank-buster aircraft on a reconnaissance mission over the wooded region of Gostishchevo in the morning of 8th July. He knew that in this difficult terrain the flank of the SS Panzer Corps had to be guarded from the air unless the ground forces were to run into some unpleasant surprises.
Meyer's eyes swept over clearings and little valleys. Over there! Surely that is . . .
Meyer banked low, hard over the tree-tops. There was no longer any doubt: emerging from the cover of the wood were infantry columns. Behind them rumbled tanks. Ten of them. Twenty. Thirty. More and more of them were coming out of the wood, forming up into a broad wedge and moving off in a westerly direction.
From the conferences he had attended at VIII Air Corps HQ Captain Meyer was acquainted with the situation. He instantly realized the threat of this Soviet advance towards the deep flank of SS Panzer Corps. And Meyer also realized that this was his hour.
He commanded the IV (tank-buster)
Gruppe of 9th Ground-Support
Geschwader based near Mikoyanovka. On its fields stood 68 brand-new Henschel Hs-129 armoured ground-support aircraft. Each of these machines was fitted, in addition to its machine-gun, with a 3-cm cannon. They were the flying anti-tank guns of Operation Citadel.
Here now was an opportunity to test the new weapon. By radio Meyer alerted the ground control of his
Gruppe and ordered take-off by separate
Staffels – formations of nine machines.
As the first
Staffel came zooming up, Meyer instructed the pilots by radiotelephony. Then began a historic battle - for the first time in military history a large armoured formation was opposed from the air alone.
The aircraft attacked from low level. Like hawks they pounced on the Russian tanks from behind and from the side. The cannon flashed and barked. Once, twice, three times. Direct hit. Explosion. Fire. In flames the stricken T-34s were careering over the battlefield.
In between the low-level attacks by the Henschel tank-buster aircraft, Major Druschel's Focke-Wulf ground-support
Gruppe attacked the Russian infantry columns and the hastily positioned flak guns with high-fragmentation bombs.
It was a battle, of machines. The Russian tanks were unable to cope with this unaccustomed attacker. They drove across each other's paths, got mixed up with one another, and fell an easy prey to Meyer's flying tank-busters.
After an hour the Soviet brigade was smashed. Fifty tanks littered the battlefield, burnt out or heavily damaged. The deadly threat to Hausser's deep flank was averted even before SS Panzer Corps and Fourth Panzer Army had become aware of it.
But Khrushchev too scored a victory - victory over the panic of XXXI Tank Corps. General Popel, whom he had hurriedly dispatched with two political commissars into the combat zone of Cherniyenkov's corps, very soon encountered Lieutenant-Colonel Konovalov's retreating tank brigade. Popel brought the units to a halt, turned them about and ordered them forward again.
As for the corps commander, Popel found him at an advanced HQ in the foremost line. He had already rallied several regiments.
Although the corps was still somewhat confused, and indeed yielding at many points, the panic was checked. The 29th Anti-Tank Gun Brigade covered the withdrawal and enabled provisional defensive positions to be established. The worst had been averted. But matters were bad, enough: Hausser's armoured formations were vigorously pursuing the retreating Russians.
Captain Lex, commanding 3rd Company of "Der Fuhrer" SS Panzer Grenadier Regiment, chased with his men through a gap in the front. Suddenly he found himself before the well-built headquarters of the utterly surprised staff of a Soviet rifle brigade and captured the lot of them - the general, his staff, and the headquarters company.
The "Totenkopf" Division, which had been tied down for several days on the right wing of the corps, resisting Soviet counter-attacks, was relieved by the hurriedly brought up formations of 167th Infantry Division.
The regiments of the Bavarian 167th Infantry Division under Lieutenant-General Trierenberg marched straight across the supply columns to the east and took up defensive positions along the Belgorod-Kursk railway line. On the important high ground north of Luchki I were the observers of six light and heavy troops of 238th Artillery Regiment, directing the concentrated fire of their guns against the Soviet infantry brigades which attacked again and again; on a very narrow frontage of barely 300 yards they were trying to force a breakthrough.
But 167th Infantry Division held out-largely owing to its artillery. Captain Wiede aimed the heavy and effective fire of his horse-drawn 10.5-cm howitzer troop accurately in front of the German trenches and right among the attacking Russians. The gun-aimers worked as if they were on a practice range. The artillery was in command.
Thanks to this defence, General Hausser was able to move his motorized battalions northwards across the Psel along the line of contact between "Leibstandarte" and "Das Reich". The crossing on this important sector was accomplished by Lieutenant-Colonel Kark Ullrich with 3rd Battalion, 6th SS Panzer Grenadier Regiment of "Totenkopf" Division, in the face of murderous Soviet artillery and mortar fire from the higher opposite bank. When the attack seemed to flounder in the heavy fire, Ullrich personally led his men forward and in the late hours of 10th July 1943 stormed the village of Krasnyy Oktyabr, formed a small bridgehead over the river, and held it against exceedingly strong attacks by Soviet infantry and armour.
As a result, "Totenkopf Division" gained a bridgehead over the river between Bogoroditskoye and Veselyy on 11th July. The very thing which the strict orders of the Soviet High Command had said must on no account be allowed to happen had now happened - the last natural obstacle before Kursk had been overcome.
Simultaneously, "Leibstandarte" and "Das Reich" pushed ahead towards Prokhorovka between the railway and the Psel.
General Katukov, the C-in-C of the reinforced Tank Army, was in a spot. Following the collapse of the Soviet Sixth Guards Army he was to have made a counter-attack with all available forces, but at the same time he was expected to bar the German advance towards Oboyan. And now, to top it all, he was being hard pressed himself.
He had no choice but to employ his strategic reserves, which were being supplied to First Tank Army for its intended counter-offensive, one by one, as they arrived.
The result was disastrous. On 11th July not only the Sixth Guards Army was knocked out, but First Tank Army was badly battered, and the hurriedly brought up Fifth Guards Army was frittered away piecemeal.
At Army HQ Lieutenant-General Nikita Khrushchev sat opposite Katukov like a policeman, ordering: "Hold out, hold out, hold out!"
Every hour he rang up Army Group with the impatient query: "When are the reserves of the Steppe Front arriving? Where are the armoured corps of Fifth Guards Tank Army?"
"They are on their way," General Vatutin assured him. And in fact, they were on their way. They were rapidly moving towards the neck of land and towards Prokhorovka.
The moment of decision for the whole of Operation Citadel was approaching inexorably.
On the northern front, on the battlefield of the German Ninth Army, Model on 11th July was similarly on the point of breaking through the last Soviet defences at Teploye. He therefore regrouped his forces, moved all his reserves into the operation area of XLVI Panzer Corps, and fixed 12th July as the date for the decisive breakthrough attack.
The commanders were waiting for H-hour. Between Teploye and the Kursk highway they were to break through with concentrated armoured forces and race ahead to meet Hoth's divisions approaching from the south.
The operation was well planned and accurately co-ordinated. Hoth, too, intended to force the decision on 12th July and to annihilate General Katukov's armoured forces on the neck of land of Prokhorovka before the Soviet Steppe Front Army Group could bring up fresh reserves and intervene in the battle.
Would the plan succeed?
The answer depended on III Panzer Corps of Army Detachment Kempf. It was fighting east of the Donets. Its task, defined by Manstein at the beginning of the operation, was: "To advance rapidly in the general direction of Korocha and attack and destroy the enemy forces expected from the east and north.” In other words, Kempf’s three Panzer divisions were to intercept the Soviet Fifth Guards Tank Army, prevent it linking up with Katukov's Army, and thereby keep Hoth's flank free.
That was tank strategy in the Manstein manner. Once again, as so often in military history, a fateful decision which was to determine the further course of a whole campaign depended on the clock, on a mere day or a mere hour. The "historic minute of Waterloo" was repeated at Prokhorovka.
In the battle of Waterloo, on 18th June 1815, Marshal Grouchy's flank attack, which was intended to prevent the link-up of the Prussian and the British Armies, would very probably have decided the battle in favour of Napoleon – if only Grouchy had arrived on the battlefield in time.
At Prokhorovka the strategic situation was much the same. In a battle in which roughly equal forces were clashing with each other, the planned flank attack by Kempf’s 6th, 7th and 19th Panzer Divisions, reinforced by brigades of assault guns and the Heavy Tank Battalion 503, was to have tipped the scales.
On 11th July Kempf’s leading formations were on the banks of the northern Donets, twelve miles from the fateful locality of Prokhorovka. Difficult combat conditions in the unfavourable river terrain, as well as strong enemy resistance, had slowed down his timetable, but at last the situation seemed to be taking a turn for the better. Colonel Bake’s advanced detachment of 6th Panzer division was getting ready to cross the upper Donets. The 7th and 19th Panzer Divisions were also coming up. This meant a total of more than 300 tanks and assault guns – a powerful force. If it was thrown in time into the scales of the impending armoured battle it was bound to ensure victory for Hoth.
The race began. In the evening of 11th July General Rotmistrov’s Soviet Fifth Guards Army appeared on the neck of land with XVII and XXIX Tank Corps, as well as V Mechanized Guards Corps. Rotmistrov had 850 tanks at his disposal – nearly all of them T-34s – as well as heavy SUs, those self-propelled 12.2 and 15.2-cm guns used as assault guns.
For the moment Hoth only had about 600 tanks of Hausser’s Panzer Corps to oppose the Soviet armour, although some of his companies were equipped with heavy Tiger tanks. Together with General Kempf’s armoured forces he would have outnumbered the Soviets.
At the Voronezh Front headquarters, General Vatutin, Khrushchev, and their staff officers stood before their situation map. Each one of them knew that the decisive moment of the battle was approaching.
“We’ve got to strike at Hausser with the Fifth Guards Tank Army, regardless of the situation of our other armies,” General Vatutin said. He was one of the most brilliant commanders among the Soviet top military leaders. He realized that time was on Hoth’s side.
But there was also a different view held in the Military Council – Wait for First Tank Army and Fifth Guards Army to reform after their heavy losses of the past few days, and then send it into action together with Fifth Guards Army to counter-attack Hausser's strong forces.
But Vatutin's and Khrushchev's views prevailed. Their argument was as follows: If we wait any longer Kempf will be here. And to fight against Hausser and Kempf simultaneously, in other words both to the front and the rear, would be dangerous.
It was the situation of Waterloo. Then, at noon on 18th June 1815, the French regiments time and again charged the British positions at Belle Alliance. The sodden hillsides were covered with tens of thousands of dead. Both sides were exhausted. The armies were reeling with fatigue. Napoleon and Wellington were anxious. Both knew that victory would go to him who first received reinforcements - Wellington from Blucher, Napoleon from Grouchy. Again and again Napoleon nervously picked up his telescope, again and again he dispatched messengers. If his Marshal arrived in time, the sun of Austerlitz would once more shine over France; if he failed to come, all would be lost.
The situation of Waterloo was repeated at Prokhorovka. On the morning of 12th July 1943 Rotmistrov's tanks were moving in deep echelon against Hausser's Panzer regiments which were at the same time moving into the neck of land. Two huge armoured avalanches, shrouded in dust and smoke, were thundering towards each other in a confined space. There now began an open head-on tank battle such as military history had never seen before. Nor, for that matter, since.
Some 1500 tanks and assault guns were racing, firing, exploding, burning, thundering, and smoking on that minute sea of hills and valleys around Prokhorovka.
An impressive and vivid account of the first few hours of the battle was put on record by Lieutenant-General Rotmistrov. His is one of the best accounts of the battle in modern Soviet military history.
Rotmistrov had a view of the battlefield from a hill near Prokhorovka. "The tanks were moving across the steppe in small packs, under cover of patches of woodland and hedges. The bursts of gunfire merged into one continuous, mighty roar. The Soviet tanks thrust into the German advanced formations at full speed and penetrated the German tank screen. The T-34s were knocking out Tigers at extremely close range, since their powerful guns and massive armour no longer gave them an advantage in close combat. The tanks of both sides were in closest possible contact. There was neither time nor room to disengage from the enemy and reform in battle order, or operate in formation. The shells fired at extremely close range pierced not only the side armour but also the frontal armour of the fighting vehicles. At such range there was no protection in armour, and the length of the gun barrels was no longer decisive. Frequently, when a tank was hit, its ammunition and fuel blew up, and torn-off turrets were flung through the air over dozens of yards. At the same time over the battlefield furious aerial combats developed. Soviet as well as German airmen tried to help their ground forces to win the battle. The bombers, ground-support aircraft, and fighters seemed to be permanently suspended in the sky over Prokhorovka. One aerial combat followed another. Soon the whole sky was shrouded by the thick smoke of the burning wrecks. On the black, scorched earth the gutted tanks burnt like torches. It was difficult to establish which side was attacking and which defending. The 2nd Battalion 181st Tank Brigade of XVIII Tank Corps, attacking on the left bank of the Psel, encountered a group of Tigers which opened fire on the Soviet armoured fighting vehicles from a stationary position. The powerful long-range guns of the Tigers are exceedingly dangerous, and the Soviet tanks had to try to close with them as quickly as possible to eliminate this advantage of the enemy. Captain P. A. Skripkin, the battalion commander, ordered: 'Forward, follow me!' The first shell of the commander's tank pierced the side of a Tiger. Instantly another Tiger opened fire on Skripkin's T-34. A shell crashed through its side and a second wounded the battalion commander. The driver and wireless operator pulled their commander from the tank and took him to the cover of a shell crater. As a Tiger was making straight for them, Aleksandr Nikolayev, the driver, leapt back into his damaged and already smouldering tank, started the engine and raced up to meet the enemy tank. Like a flaming ball of fire the T-34 raced over the ground. The Tiger halted. But it was too late. The blazing tank rammed the German Panzer at full speed. The detonation made the ground shake."
On the afternoon of 12th July Rotmistrov's opponent, Colonel-General Hoth, was also well forward on the battlefield. From the headquarters of the "Der Fuhrer” Regiment he watched the fighting. Through a trench telescope he surveyed the battle area which was littered with smouldering wrecks.
Hausser's regiments had been forced on to the defensive, but they held their ground. Time and again Soviet armoured brigades broke into the German main defensive line. But each time they were thrown back, even though the grenadiers were beginning to despair under the ceaseless onslaught of masses of enemy armour.
Heavy fighting developed on the right flank of "Das Reich” Division. There the Soviet II Guards Tank Corps attacked repeatedly from the gap between Hausser's Corps and Breith's divisions which had not yet arrived. That accursed gap!
"The Russian attacks on our flank are tying down half of our effectives and are taking the steam out of our operation against the enemy at Prokhorovka," growled the regimental commander, Sylvester Stadler.
Hoth nodded. He asked for a line to Army Headquarters. Major-General Fangohr, chief of staff of Fourth Panzer Army, answered.
"Fangohr, have you any news of Kempf? Where is his III Panzer Corps?"
Fangohr had very accurate news because only a minute previously he had been through to Army Group and learnt from Generel Busse, Manstein's chief of staff, that the spearheads of III Panzer Corps were at Rzhavets on the northern Donets.
This was good news. But Fangohr also had some bad news. He had learned from Busse that Model had not mounted his planned breakthrough attack on the northern front of Kursk.
Why not? Because the Soviets were attacking in the rear of Ninth Army, in the Orel salient, and had almost at once achieved a deep penetration at Second Panzer Army.
Orel was threatened, the supply base of the whole of Army Group Centre was in danger, the rear of Ninth Army was in grave peril. Model had to pull some of his forces out of the front in order to switch them against the attacking Russians.
Hoth listened to the news in silence, thanked Busse, and replaced the receiver.
Everything seemed doubly urgent now. It was now vital to force a decision here, on the southern front of the salient. Could he still succeed? He must.
Breith could be relied upon. He was one of the most experienced and most successful tank commanders in the army. Besides, Manstein still had General Nehring's XXIV Panzer Corps in reserve, with two outstanding divisions, the well-tried 17th Panzer Division and the 5th (Viking) SS Panzer Grenadier Division.
The crucial point, however, was that General Breith's III Panzer Corps must get across the Donets.
Rzhavets was 12 miles away from the main battlefield. The roar of the guns of Prokhorovka could be heard from there. The commanders and chiefs of staff of the reinforced 11th Panzer Regiment were sitting beside the command tank of their combat-group leader.
Colonel von Oppeln-Bronikowski was listening to a suggestion by Major Dr Franz Bake. Kazachye, eight miles short of the river and the objective of the day's attack, had been reached after a daring raid and much hard fighting, Bake now suggested that the strongly fortified town of Rzhavets should be taken by a surprise coup during the night of 11th/12th July, the Donets crossed, and a bridgehead established.
Oppeln had misgivings. Divisional orders were that the crossing was to be forced on the following day, after artillery bombardment.
Bake objected that the Russians were there in strength and that a daytime attack was bound to be very costly. A coup under cover of darkness might be easier.
Might! But there was no certainty. However, Oppeln was an experienced tank commander and accepted Bake's reasoning. He agreed.
Bake organized the coup in the traditional manner. With his 2nd Battalion, 11th Panzer Regiment, and the 2nd (armoured infantry carrier) Battalion, 114th Panzer Grenadier Regiment, under Lieutenant Roembke, the small force pushed on towards the river after nightfall.
A captured T-34 was placed at the head of the column, to deceive the enemy. True, the German cross had been painted on it - but not very large. And at night all cats were grey. What mattered was the silhouette.
Radio silence. No fire to be opened. No talking. But smoking permitted. In fact, the men were encouraged to ride on top of the tanks, relaxed and smoking, as if this was a normal movement by a unit. "But not a single word in German," the company commanders had impressed on their men.
The ghost column moved on. It was led by Bake in person, then came a troop of tanks and a few armoured infantry carriers with grenadiers and engineers, then the command tanks. There was only the rumble of the engines and the clank of the chains. Enemy columns passed shoulder to shoulder. The silhouette of the T-34 at the head of the German unit deceived the Russians.
They moved past manned and well-established emplacements of anti-tank guns and multiple mortars. The moon shed a dim light. The Russians did not budge. Sleepily they were leaning in their positions along the road. They were used to such columns. All day long Soviet formations had been rumbling past them. Bake overtook an enemy infantry column. Fortunately no Soviet soldier thought of hitching a ride on the tanks.
"After about six miles," Dr Bake records, "our T-34 went on strike. Moved no doubt by national sentiments, it stopped and blocked the road. So our men had to climb out of their tanks and in spite of the Russians standing all round them, watching curiously, they had to haul the T -34 off the road and push it into the ditch in order to clear the way for the rest of the formation. In spite of the order that not a word of German was to be spoken, a few German curses were heard. Never before had I winced so much under a curse as at Rzhavets. But the Russians still did not notice anything. The crew of our T-34 was picked up, and on we moved."
The first houses of Rzhavets appeared in front of them. And the first Soviet tanks. They were T-34s lined up along the road. Their hatches stood open. The crews were lying in the grass. But worse was to come: Lieutenant Huchtmann, riding in the lead tank, excitedly reported by radio telephone: "Russian tanks coming up to meet us. What am I to do?" Bake replied: "Take a deep breath so can hear it in my earphones, and start counting them."
Huchtmann counted into his microphone: "One-two-three-four-five ... ten ... fifteen ... twenty-twenty-one-twenty-two.”
Twenty-two enemy tanks. They moved past the German column, within arm's reach.
Everybody heaved a sigh of relief. But suddenly the Soviet column showed signs of uneasiness. Half a dozen T-34s wheeled out of line and drove back. Had they noticed anything?
Bake ordered his combat group to move on, in the direction of Rzhavets, and in his command tank III, which carried only a wooden dummy gun, he halted across the road. Seven T -34s moved up, and placed themselves around Bake's tank in a semi-circle at roughly twenty yards’ distance. They levelled their guns. But evidently they were not quite sure what to do. They were foxed by the darkness. Things were looking bad for Bake. A wooden gun was not much use. But something had to be done to prevent the whole enterprise from being jeopardized at the last moment. It was too late to bring back the combat group. Bake therefore decided upon a piece of bravado. With his orderly officer, Lieutenant Zumpel, he jumped out of his command tank. Each of them carried an explosive charge, a "sticky bomb", in each hand. They dashed past the armoured infantry carrier of Sergeant-Cadet Dehen who was all set, waiting for permission to open fire.
Five leaps. Demolition charge attached to the first enemy tank. A few Soviet infantrymen were sitting on top of it and turned their heads in alarm. One of them raised his rifle, but Bake snatched it from his hands. He leapt into the ditch for cover. He found himself chest-deep in water. There were two dull explosions. Lieutenant Zumpel, for his part, had attached his demolition charge to the other tank.
Up again. The next two. Back under cover. But this time there was only one bang. The other charge did not go off.
One of the T -34s menacingly traversed its cannon.
Bake jumped up on one of his own tanks, which was coming up, ducked behind the turret, and yelled: "Open fire!"
The German gun-aimer was quicker than his Russian opponent. One shot and the Soviet tank was knocked out.
But now hell was let loose. The ghost journey was over. The Russians fired flares. Machine-gun fire rattled wildly from all sides.
Bake's tanks and armoured infantry carriers raced into the village. Anti-tank gun positions were overrun. Engineers captured a troop of multiple mortars.
From the direction of the river came several dull thuds. "The bridge!" Bake thought in alarm.
A moment later his tank stood at the bridge over the Donets. The bridge had been blown up. The combat group had missed the turn in the village which led to it.
However, engineers and grenadiers managed to reach the far bank by a footbridge. And the surprise among the Russians was such that the Germans succeeded in forming a bridgehead. At daybreak Bake's vanguard detachment of 6th Panzer Division was firmly established on the northern bank of the Donets. General von Hunersdorff immediately sent across the 1st Battalion, 114th Panzer Grenadier Regiment, under Captain Oekel. By late afternoon on 12th July the Combat Group Horst of 19th Panzer Division had also been brought up. The Panzer Divisions of Breith's corps were able to move across the speedily repaired bridge and extend the narrow bridgehead. Parts of the overrun Soviet formations, which were trying to fall back to the north, were intercepted.
The Russians were so surprised to find German troops at Rzhavets that they made no attempt to resist at all. When a motor-cycle dispatch rider named Gerdsmann of 1st Battalion, 114th Panzer Grenadier Regiment, encountered a horse-drawn Russian gun and raised his carbine the entire gun crew put up their hands, flabbergasted.
However, 6th Panzer Division suffered one blow of misfortune in this bold coup. And this blow, tragically, was struck not by the enemy but by the Luftwaffe. One
Staffel of He-111s, which had not yet been informed of the successful nocturnal operation, believed the formation on the northern bank of the Donets to be an enemy unit, and attacked.
General von Hunersdorff was just holding a conference, with his unit commanders alongside his command tank. Several bombs dropped in the immediate vicinity and wounded 14 officers and a considerable number of other ranks. Hunersdorff himself was wounded, but he stayed with his division. Major Bieberstein, commanding 114th Panzer Grenadier Regiment, and Captain Oekel died of their wounds.
That was a bad price to pay for the opening of the door to Prokhorovka. Yet provided the further advance now was rapid, it might well be the price of victory.
But Bake was unable to exploit his advantage. While he carried out his coup against Rzhavets, the bulk of 6th Panzer Division had been attacking the important high ground of Aleksandrovka, six miles farther east. However, the Soviets vigorously defended this key point of their Donets positions in the flank of the German advance. The battalions of the reinforced 4th Panzer Grenadier Regiment were pinned down by heavy enemy fire outside Aleksandrovka.
Hunersdorff did not hesitate a moment. With Major Bake's tanks he raced back to the southern bank of the Donets. With half a dozen Panthers he thrust past the stubbornly defended village, took the commanding heights, and thus opened the path into the village itself for the grenadiers.
The enemy defence zone between Donets and Korocha was in consequence pierced on 13th July. The 6th Panzer Division was free to thrust northwards. The tanks of 7th and 19th Panzer Divisions poured through the bridgehead of Rzhavets towards the battlefield of Prokhorovka.
But Hunersdorff was no longer with them. Driving back from Bake's detachment to his advanced divisional HQ on 14th July he was hit by the bullet of a concealed enemy sniper. The bullet struck his head and splinters of his steel helmet damaged his brain. The unconscious general was flown by a Fieseler Storch aircraft to Kharkov, where Colonel Dr Tonjes, a brain-surgeon who had been specially flown in, operated on him. Three days later, however, Walter von Hunersdorff, aged 45, died of his severe wounds at the army hospital. A nurse watched by his bedside day and night, right to the end - Frau von Hunersdorff, who was in charge of a forward forces convalescent centre of the German Red Cross.
The dashing young tank general, who barely six months previously, in the attempt to relieve Stalingrad, had brought the spearhead of Hoth's Army to within thirty miles of the outposts of Sixth Army, was dead. H died at the moment when the great battle had reached its climax and victory seemed within an arm's reach.
