Cauldron of Blood by Leo Kessler

the slope. He could not fail his idol Obersturmfuhrer Peiper — he simply couldn’t! ‘All we want is to cross the bridge and fight the Russians.’
    ‘ You’ll get your bellyful of old Ivan before yer finished, sonny boy, believe you me,’ the old man said stolidly.
    ‘ Ay, that he will!’ a half-dozen gruff voices agreed.
    ‘ I order you to move out of the way!’
    The man barring the way laughed hollowly. ‘ Order ! The only officer giving orders here, is the Fireball, sonny boy !’
    The young officer’s nerve broke. ‘Driver,’ he cried, voice shrill with overwhelming rage. ‘ Advance !’
    ‘ I’m warning you—’
    The driver let go of the clutch. The steep prow of the Panther smashed into the hurdle, scattering it in half-a-dozen pieces to both sides of the road. The Panther started to rumble forward. The sentry sprang to one side. He didn’t hesitate. Almost automatically he pressed his trigger. The schmeisser chattered. A stream of white tracer cut the darkness. The young lieutenant screamed. His spine arched like a taut bow and he fell across the front of his turret.
    Task Force Peiper had suffered its first casualty....
    *
    Now the little convoy was approaching the area where the Russians had to be dug in. Up ahead was the vague blur of the high bank. Obviously they would have men up there, but undoubtedly they would have already sited a couple of outposts at the bank’s base too.
    Peiper pressed his throatmike. ‘To all crews. Button up now. Keep well spaced. We’re running—’
    The rest of his words were drowned by a tremendous explosion to his rear, which flung him against the front of the turret. For one long moment the sky was as light as day, as explosion after explosion rent the night stillness, and angry red flame ripped the darkness apart.
    Peiper cursed. Fireball had been true to his word. He had blown the damned bridge. Now they were cut off too. But at this moment what was more important was that the explosions must have alerted the Ivans. He pressed the throatmike again.
    ‘ All right, boys, no use playing cat and mouse now. The Popovs will be waiting for us. So let’s hit hard where it hurts most — in the eggs! Over and out !’
    At top speed the little group of Panthers, spread out now in battle formation, long overhanging cannon waving from side to side, ready for the first sign of trouble, rattled towards the stark black incline, still silent and ominous, though Peiper had the eerie feeling that they were being watched all the time.
    ‘ Driver, you ready?’ he rapped through the intercom. ‘Yes sir. The old trick?’
    ‘ Right.’
    Now Peiper’s tank started to draw ahead of the others, so that they were drawn out in a flying arrow formation with the command Panther at the point. The ridge grew ever closer. Peiper could already make out the lines of firs which marked its summit like a regiment of spike-helmeted Prussian Guards on the march. Eyes narrowed to slits, he swung the periscope from side to side, searching the gloom for the Ivans who he knew had to be there.
    A soft thud, muted by the noise the tracks made. ‘Enemy fire ten o’clock!’ the driver’s scared voice reported.
    Peiper pressed the button. The electronically operated turret swung round easily. A faint white blur was hurrying towards them, gathering speed at every instant. ‘ AP !’ he yelled. ‘Driver, you ready?’
      ‘ Sir!’
      ‘ Now !’
    In the same instant that the anti-tank gun to their left fired again, the driver threw the Panther around as if it were a child’s toy and flashed on the powerful headlights. Suddenly night was transformed into day, as the twin white beams shot through the darkness, illuminating the little group of enemy soldiers scuttling around a small anti-tank cannon, abruptly pinned down by the blinding light like insects trapped by a lamp.
    ‘ Fire !’ Peiper commanded, knowing the old trick only worked if its user was quicker off the mark than his