Prohibition of Interference. Book 2. Tactical Level. Макс Глебов
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One could not even dream of capturing the Oberleutnant as a prisoner for interrogation. He was surrounded by many soldiers the whole time, but even if we had succeeded, his disappearance would have almost instantly turned the river bank into a disturbed anthill, and we would not have been allowed to leave in peace.
We had been lying motionless for nearly two hours in the wet grass under cover of not too dense bushes and watching the shore. The situation looked like a dead end. All officers arriving by boat went to the front in platoon columns, and attacking such a column with our forces was out of question.
I knew that German sappers had already built a pontoon bridge to one of the islands closer to their shore. Now this structure could not withstand tanks and other heavy equipment, but light artillery and trucks moved confidently over this bridge. This greatly simplified the task of crossing the infantry divisions, and by and large this bridge should have been destroyed immediately, but our command knew nothing about it yet, and it was only possible to get proof of the existence of this bridge here.
Judging by the fact that the columns of German tanks continued inexorable movement toward Kremenchuk, the Germans were soon to begin building a bridge across the Dnieper. They were already bringing in pontoons and the necessary materials for construction and storing them on the opposite bank. With such a concentration of forces and means, German sappers could accomplish the task very quickly, and then a very unpleasant surprise in the form of a strike from the south by von Kleist's Panzer Group 1 threatened our 300th Division, the 38th Army, and the entire Southwestern Front.
“You called me ashore, Junior Lieutenant,” Shcheglov couldn't stand it, “Here we are, then what?”
“Just a minute, Comrade Captain,” I asked, closing my eyes and concentrating.
The night and low clouds made it very difficult to see the details, but I did manage to spot a boat heading toward our shore, the composition of its passengers being somewhat different from the rest of the boats. The German officer who crossed to the eastern bank of the Dnieper was not of high rank. By playing with the filter settings, I was able to see his insignia – the Hauptmann. Perhaps it was a company commander, or maybe a battalion-level staff officer. The computer had no additional information about him – he wasn't Guderian after all.
“I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a little swim,” I finally said, which seemed to put Shcheglov into a slight stupor. I should have hurried up and made my point clear. “Comrade Captain, the boats approach the shore at 10–15 minute intervals. Every fourth one is a freighter. There are only four soldiers on oars, one or two noncommissioned officers, and an officer, as a rule, a lieutenant or Oberleutnant – probably a platoon leader. They don't expect an attack, especially from the water. You remember, I think, how I know how to handle knives. Only I must start now, or the boat with the officer will get too close to our shore, and my actions will be discovered.”
“Do you realize that if something goes wrong, there's nothing we can do to help you?” Shcheglov answered after a second pause, looking somewhere in the distance.
“I understand that, Comrade Captain. There are no Germans a kilometer downstream. They don't control the whole shore behind them – apparently, they believe that no one but their own can come from here. I'll try to be there in an hour at the latest. If I don't make it in an hour, I won't go to the meeting point – I'll hide on some small island and wait for the next night.”
Shcheglov glanced at his watch. He didn't want to let me go alone, it was obvious, but the group still didn't have time to complete the task any other way in the time remaining before dawn, so the Captain essentially had no choice.
“We'll wait for you for two hours,” Shcheglov cut off in a tone that could not tolerate objections, “Then the group leaves. If you make it sooner, we have a better chance of getting to our troops without shooting. If you don't find the right boat, come back immediately, that's an order. Have you understood everything, Nagulin?”
Chapter 3
The water was quite cold, but bearable enough. I left my Nagant and PPSh with my ammunition and all my iron, except the knives, with the Captain. But I had six knives hanging from my belt, and two more in special sheaths mounted on my shoulders so that I could reach and throw them in one motion.
The quietest and most inconspicuous way to swim is underwater. That's what I chose. Holding my breath for five minutes did not cause me undue stress, and in that time I could swim a long enough distance. I didn't need to dive out to get my bearings, so I headed straight for the point where I planned to meet the Hauptmann's boat. It took me about ten minutes to get there, and now I was about 50 meters away from my target. The boat turned out to be quite large and could have been equipped with a motor, but the Germans, who had such motors, decided not to make any noise and preferred to use oars.
My plan did not contain any subtle tricks and was based solely on surprise, speed and accuracy. I assumed that the Germans would not be expecting an attack on a route already traversed by other boats dozens of times that night, and I was confident that the speed and precision of my body movements far exceeded the the reaction and coordination of the movements of the locals. As it turned out a little later, I was very much mistaken.
I waited underwater, and when the enemy boat was a meter from my head, I made a sharp movement with my legs that pushed me upward. At the same time, I grabbed the bow of the boat, and threw my body over the side, which tilted slightly.
The soldiers, who were oaring, didn't even have time to realize what had happened. They were only a few meters away from me, and I couldn't miss from that distance. Hauptmann, comfortably seated in the stern, did not have time to react either, or rather, he reached for his holster, but the handle of the knife that struck him in the forehead rendered the officer unconscious for several minutes. But the non-commissioned officer, who on closer inspection turned out to be a Stabsfeldwebel, showed better training than all the other Germans in the boat, and in addition, he had more time than the soldiers who died almost instantly.
I feared he would start screaming, trying to raise the alarm, or try firing his MP-40, but apparently the German knew he might not make it in time. I didn't even notice him pulling a knife, as I was busy first with the soldiers and then with their commander, and when my attention did shift to the last enemy, the German had already thrown his weapon. I must say, he did it masterfully, and his knife was as good as mine.
The unexpectedness of the attack played a cruel joke on me – I was not prepared for such a development. Instantly assessing the threat, the computer took control of my muscles and jerked me to the left with a U-turn, disregarding my body's physiological capabilities. The combat mode of the implants allows me to do such tricks under the condition of an immediate threat to life. I needed to keep my body as trained as possible just for occasions like this. Such a stunt would put an unprepared person in a hospital bed for a very long time.
The Stabsfeldwebel's knife, aimed at my heart, ripped through my blouse and flew into the water, tearing the skin on my shoulder. I didn't even notice this wound. My spine cracked, my back muscles felt like they were exploding with pain, and I could hardly keep from screaming, but I couldn't stop. The German, not the least bit embarrassed by the fact that I managed to dodge his knife, had already grabbed his