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"Backs Against The Wall"
The following is an account of a defense against a determined Allied counterattack.
by Bonzen

Phillippeville is a typical Belgian town situated on a slight rise in the middle of a treeless plain. It is also a strategic crossroad with roads leading North, South, East, and West.

The town itself lies mostly north of the East-West road and includes a church and several other buildings. About 3/4 of a mile south of the crossroad is a barbwire enclosed camp which includes a barracks, garage, and command building. Control of this enclosure determines which army controls Phillippeville.

After a stiff fight in Flavion our advance continued west until we were on the outskirts of Phillippeville. The Allies conceded the town so our troops dismounted and took the objectives in the village itself. Meanwhile, our tanks enveloped the army base and poured fire into any vehicle offering resistance. It was a spirited defense and we took considerable casualties, but it eventually broke down and the town was ours.

Typically, after an action like this, enemy forces in the area attempt to close with the lost objective in series of piecemeal attacks that are easily handled. The attacks are dealt with, our forces consolidate and rearm, and we move on. This quickly proved not to be a typical encounter.

Our tanks fanned out in all directions searching for enemy vehicles with the majority headed west towards the next town. A few remained behind until it was determined that the town was secure and the advance could continue. As a trooper, I waited in the army base with a few others until the "All Clear" signal was given and we could hop a truck to the next town. A lone Stuka provided us with air cover and reports on ground movement.

Soon word came that Spitfires were approaching. One peeled off and went after the Stuka while the other two flew over the base at rooftop level with guns blazing. Reports also came in from our widely dispersed tanks - "3 A13's 2 Char coming up road from West" - "4 A13's coming up road from the north". A major counterattack was developing.

I situated myself in a prone position under the low hanging branches of a large tree about 60yds from the entrance to the command building. Another trooper positioned himself on the platform above the garage. We had the entrance of the command building in a crossfire. An 88 was hauled out of the garage but after drawing the unwanted attention of the Spitfires, remained in the garage covering one of the entrances to the compound. The trooper in the garage position had a panoramic view of the countryside to the North, West, and South, so we relied on him to tell us what was happening. I could barely see smoke from brewing tanks to the South and Southwest, and could see just a few of the buildings in Phillippeville on it's eastern approaches. My time was spent checking sightlines and nervously scanning for any troop movement. Excited radio reports revealed the enemy was closing with our position.

"Here they come" coincided with an HE round smashing into the garage. Within seconds the garage and barracks were in flames while every few minutes a Spitfire would dive on us and strafe the buildings. I was unseen, and the tracers and clumps of ground kicking up across the compound with every strafing run convinced me to stay put. The sound was incredible with the large guns firing, the machine guns of the Spits, and the crack of close rounds whizzing by. It was chaos.

Suddenly a Bedford appeared and drove around the rear of the command building. The trooper on the garage was madly firing but lost sight as the truck swung around the south side of the building. The truck pulled into my view by the entrance and we had the crossfire but he was blocking my view of the entrance. I put round into the truck and he pulled forward exposing the entrance and 3 British troopers. The first broke for the entrance. I squeezed off a round and he fell dead before he got to the door. The second paused, then began moving for the door. Another round and he too was dead. The third didn't move. Whether he was unsure of what to do or if he was trying to determine where the firing was coming from is unknown to me. I shot him once and he began to move around behind the building. I shot again and he collapsed. The truck was easily dispatched.

Someone must have tipped off one of the Spits because within minutes I became a target. As I looked up a Spitfire was making a run towards me. The tracers started hitting the command building and continued, churning up earth, in a line coming directly at me.

Miraculously, the pilot pulled up just a few feet before my position would have been hit. It was time to move. I got up and ran to the burning barracks and was finally able to see the carnage. Enemy tanks were within view and appeared to be in a running battle with our own tanks. A few burning tanks could be seen and a 109 had arrived to draw off the Spits. At one point an enemy tank penetrated the compound but was quickly set afire.

We survived the first round. There was a sense of relief and good-natured joking. The enemy either withdrew or was killed off, but they had succeeded in taking the objectives in the town, which meant troopers. We had no idea if they were still there.

When things quieted down a bit I followed a tank into town and did a house-to- house take back of the objectives. I heard rifle fire but was unable to determine from where. After a few minutes the town was clear and I headed back down the rise to the compound.

The enemy was coming back from the South and West and our tankers were fanning out in those directions. The second round was beginning. Suddenly everything went black. I never heard or saw the shot that killed me.