Read ARMAGEDDON'S SONG (Volume 3) 'Fight Through' Online
Authors: ANDY FARMAN
It was a textbook perfect attack and the first HARM’s
began exploding AAA vehicles even as they began to pivot to face the new
threat. The effect was the one hoped for, no one ‘predicted’ results or actions
anymore, the pre-war doctrines and assumptions had been found naïve and
wanting. As had been hoped though, the majority of the anti-aircraft
artillery assets radars were silent five seconds later as two pairs of Jaguars
popped up over a rise to the
north west
and over-flew
the waiting armour of 23
rd
Czech MRR, releasing cluster bomb units as they did
so. Seven seconds later a further four Jaguars came in from west, but they were
less fortunate, the enemy were now reacting to the presence of aircraft
overhead and one Jaguar fell to a sustained burst of 23mm fire whilst an SA-9
found the number four aircraft before it could release its load, exploding it
in a fireball from which flaming debris fell to litter the German countryside.
The remaining pair ejected chaff and flares as they egressed to the south but a
refuelled, rearmed, and angry Mig-31 CAP arrived hurriedly back on station and
pounced, taking out both RAF aircraft with missile shots before NATO’s own
combat air patrol could intervene.
23
rd
MRRs commander stood in the turret of his T-80 and
stared off in the direction of his units FUP. There were trees between the
forming up point and his present position but he had no trouble knowing where
to look, the black oily smoke rising above the treetops indicated where
fourteen of his armoured fighting vehicles were stopped and burning.
He felt a tap on the leg and looked down into the
vehicle, into the upturned face of his radio operator.
“Yes?”
“The division commander is offering fixed wing cover
for the attack, sir.”
He gave it some consideration before dismissing the
idea. It would mean severely restricting his anti-aircraft assets rules of
engagement, and from past experience he believed that they would see nothing of
this alleged air cover until after NATO air strikes had come and gone,
unchallenged by their own air force and by the his own AAA that had been
ordered to hold fire. The idea of using air power for precision strikes against
hardpoint’s was extremely attractive – on paper – but this was the real thing,
not a classroom exercise.
“My thanks, but no thanks.”
Instead of disappearing, the radio operators face remained looking up at him.
“Is there something else?”
“Yes sir, First battalion’s commander is asking for a
delay, to deal with the wounded and he is also asking for a company to be
attached from Third battalion to make up for what
First
just lost?”
From beyond the trees the sound of ammunition cooking
off could be heard and reinforced the urgency of the moment, the attack could
bog down before it even began. He shook his head emphatically.
“No, he goes right now, right this instant, and with
what he has…
tell
the companies in the lane to begin
their attack, and tell the mortars to start laying smoke.”
The face disappeared and he heard his orders being
relayed before the face reappeared and he received
a thumbs
up, confirming acknowledgement by the sub units.
He checked the switch on his own communications panel
was set to intercom before depressing the microphones pressel switch.
“Driver…
take
us forward, just
short of where that farm was.”
The sound of the T-80s engine raised by several
octaves and then it lurched forward, picking up speed as it headed over the battered
countryside in the direction indicated. The regimental commander’s entourage, a
trio of BTR-80 APCs, a ZSU-23-4 and another two T-80 battle tanks accompanied
it, the vehicle commanders keeping a weather eye on the skies for NATO strike
aircraft.
Back at the 1CG CP the artillery rep had ordered the
Phoenix away prior to the Tornado’s ‘Wild Weasel’ sorties and the Jaguar
strikes, but now it was arriving back above the armour of 23
rd
MRRs first battalion. Pat Reed saw that the lead companies were now on the
move, and then a signaller informed him that 3 Company were reporting smoke was
being dropped to their front.
Major Venables and his mixed squadron of Challenger
II’s and elderly Chieftain’s had endured the Soviet bombardment without loss,
but not without mishap. On the reverse slopes the tanks sat in holes dug
against the side of the hill and therefore safe from artillery pieces firing at
maximum elevation, but as ever the Soviet mortars concentrated on the areas the
guns could not hit. One of his Challenger’s had been buried by a landslide
caused by the massive 240mm mortar rounds and smaller, yet more numerous 120mm
fired from the 2S9 Anona self-propelled heavy mortar, and RE Sapper’s were
working frantically alongside REME recovery troops to dig out the tank and its
crew.
All but two of his squadron’s crewmen had seen action,
even though the last time any of his call sign’s had fired a main tank gun in
anger had been at Magdeburg. Between repulsing the assault river crossing there
and digging in here on Vormundberg it had been an infantry show, but Venables
had ensured that his crews carried out dry training at every opportunity, to
the disgust of those Hussars who had been on the Wesernitz and therefore
thought of themselves as ‘old sweats’ and above such mundane activities.
Despite such elitist attitudes he was quietly rather proud of his small command
and the way they were meshed together as a team. He was confident they would do
the business today, and if the Soviet’s achieved a breakthrough it would not be
due to any shortcomings from his men. He did have concerns regarding equipment,
particularly with the Chieftains and especially with Tango One Two Charlie,
a
Mk 10 with an unreliable engine pack and a gearbox that
would have been changed had a spare been found in time. His thoughts were
interrupted by a voice on the battalion net.
“Hello all stations address group Kilo, this is
India Zero,
Cryptic Tuesday
, over.”
The Hussar
squadron was half way down the list in order of priority and so Venables
employed the time on the squadron net.
“Hello all stations this is One Nine, move now, I say
again, move now, over.”
All three troop commanders answered and Venables own
Challenger got underway, heading for its own forward fighting position as he acknowledged
the CP on the battalion net.
“Tango One Nine,
Cryptic Tuesday
,
over.”
The word was passed down the line, the enemy is coming
and anything to your front is now ‘in play’.
The American Paratroopers and British Guardsmen waited
for the enemy armour with a feeling in their stomachs that their forefathers
had probably felt too, when the order in those bygone days had been, ‘Prepare
to receive cavalry!’
The small group of armoured vehicles stopped short of
the skyline and the 23
rd
MRRs regimental commander climbed from the turret to
the engine deck of his T-80, before making his way forward and then with a hand
on the main gun for balance he lowered himself carefully down the front glacis
plate to the ground, not wishing to turn an ankle on the shattered stone and
brickwork that lay underfoot. Two of the BTRs carried his small battle
staff but the third carried infantry, and these had debussed before their
commander had left the turret of his tank, his aide, a signaller, the
intelligence, air and artillery reps hurrying to join him whilst the
infantrymen had deployed in all round defence, providing local security.
The last few feet to the crest were accomplished on
hands and knees to avoid being silhouetted on the skyline, and the officers
took up position to the left of their commander, lying in a line of diminishing
rank or seniority with binoculars being trained on the sunken lane.
Several minutes had passed since the regimental
commander had ordered the two companies in the lane, one tank and one APC, to
begin their attack and yet despite a thick smokescreen having been laid there
was as yet no movement from that quarter. An angry demand for compliance was
snapped at the signaller, burdened down with a heavy
manpack
radio but whom conveyed the order and then likewise conveyed the senior company
commanders apology, a mortar round had scored a direct hit on the thin top
armour of an elderly BTR-60PB, the blazing vehicle was clearly visible to the
staff officers, it had been blocking the narrow roadway to the vehicles
following behind, however the combined efforts of two T-90s had muscled it over
onto its side and allowed vehicles to brave the exploding ammunition for its
heavy, 14.5mm turret mounted machine gun as they squeezed past. The 81mm rounds
being dropped by the Guards and 82
nd
mortar lines were harassing the armour in the lane
rather than doing any real damage, they were area, rather than precision,
weapons and the knocked out eight-wheeler had been a fluke.
The regimental commander snapped a query at the
artillery rep regarding the greatly reduced weight of fire landing on suspected
NATO positions but the artilleryman was spared the need to reply because at
that moment the tanks surged out of the lane, leading the way for the APC
company
.
The delay had proved a drain on the Czech mortars
supply of smoke and the screen was growing patchy, which allowed those
defenders without the benefit of infrared sights, to see the opposition with
their Mk 1 eyeballs instead.
“Who are they, do you know?” The commander had lowered
his glasses and turned his head toward his subordinates, directing the question
at the Intelligence officer, who stammered a reply.
The regimental commander considered the answer for a
moment before chuckling.
“So, the remnants of a regiment we beat in our first
battle, and some American’s who’s own regiment didn’t want them…hah!” The laugh
turned to a sneer.
“This will be over in no time at all comrades.”
Turning his attention back to his forces, he raised
his binoculars once more to his eyes.
The charge of the Czech armour went unchallenged, the
weapons in the NATO lines stayed silent as the tanks grew ever closer, passing
through the wrecked and ruined gun line of 29 Commando Regiment and into the
fields that ended where the slopes of Vormundberg began.
The CO of the Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders
called up Pat Reed, he had a troop of the Royal Scots supporting his own left
flank company, and both their tanks and a section of the flank company’s
Anti-Tank Platoon would be in position to assist 3 Company and the Hussar
Troop. Pat thanked the Scots CO for the offer, but they had best stay masked
until needed, as he was confident the attack could be beaten unaided.
Over a rise a mile to the right of the lead company
from the 23
rd
’s First Battalion appeared, motoring downhill across
fields toward the same sunken lane. It was an obstacle that would cause them to
slow in order to negotiate it, but the enemy should be fully engaged in trying
to deal with the first two companies and the regimental commander was confident
the First battalion would arrive like a hammer blow, rolling up or rolling over
the defenders. Satisfied that the fight was as good as won the regimental
commander stood, as a sign of contempt for his enemy he dispensed with basic
fieldcraft, and turning his back he began to walk back to his command tank.
Major Venables kept his eyes firmly pressed against
the sight as he keyed the radios send switch. When different Arms speak on the
same radio network the simple use of a prefix avoids, for example, the number
two troop of B Squadron of an armoured regiment from being confused with 2
Platoon, 2 Company of an infantry battalion. ‘India’ denotes Infantry, ‘Tango’
denotes armour/tanks, ‘Golf’ denotes artillery/guns etc. As Major Venables was
communicating directly with his own unit, on their own net he did not use the
‘Tango’ prefix.
“Hello One Three this is
One
,
over?”
“One Three, send over.”
“One, as per my last briefing the signal to let rip will
be me lighting up a command tank….” His gunner was already tracking the Czech
tank company commander’s vehicle, a T-90 that was easily identified by its
additional antennae.
“…but right now I’m seeing an SA-9 vehicle amongst the
tanks, at least two Zeus mixed in with the APCs and there are at least two
plough tanks with the lead element.” Venables did not have to elaborate for the
troop commander covering 3 Company.
“One Three, roger out to you…hello One Three Bravo
and One Three Charlie, over.”
“One Three Bravo, send over.”
“One Three Charlie, send over.”
Major Venables listened for just a moment longer to
the AAA targets being divided up between that
troop
,
before turning to the 3 Company net.
“Hello India Three, this is Tango One, ready when you
are, over.”