The Black Effect (Cold War) (2 page)

He was suddenly thrown to the ground by a fierce blast as the burning armoured carrier tore itself apart as the ammunition and fuel exploded.

“Move it,” he screamed.

Farrell braced his legs, his oppo helping him steady the Blowpipe, a man-portable, surface-to-air missile, on his right shoulder. He aimed it through the gap in the trees above, searching for another attacking helicopter.

Russell knew it was pointless as the likelihood of the firer locking onto a fast-moving helicopter at treetop height was extremely doubtful. Anyway, the helicopters had done their job and were either going back to their base to refuel and rearm, or were out there somewhere else seeking out more lucrative targets.

“Mount up, mount up,” he called to his men. “Find us a route through the trees so we can get round it,” he said to his driver, pointing at the still burning 432.
An inferno, a graveyard for more men of Combat Team Alpha
, he thought.

The soldiers climbed back into their vehicles, their eyes drawn to the burning coffin where some of their fellow soldiers had no doubt died. Lieutenant Russell did a circuit of the burning mass, holding his hand up to protect his face from the searing heat, searching for any men that may have dragged themselves to safety. But he saw none. After a few hundred metres, the 432 clawed its way up a shallow bank and was soon back on the track on the other side, and the convoy continued on its way west and to safety. He shook his head to the unspoken question from one of his men: should they go back? They continued their journey, needing to catch up with the rest of their unit.

Chap
ter 2

0630
5 JULY 1984. 25TH TANK DIVISION, 20 GUARDS ARMY. VOGELSANG, EAST GERMANY.

THE BLACK EFFECT −3 DAYS.

Since four in the morning, at the same time the Warsaw Pact launched its devastating opening gambit along the entire European Front against the thinly held NATO covering force, the units of the Soviet 25th Tank Division had been moving into its alert assembly area. Released from their role of encircling Berlin, this mission handed over to the soldiers of the German Democratic Republic, they would now be able to add their weight to the Warsaw Pact forces battling for supremacy on the European battlefield. On hearing the news of their country’s attack on the West, the officers of the division drove their men relentlessly, preparing them, and the unit, for the next stage: the start of a long march west. With over 300 kilometres to their final destination, Salzgitter, West Germany, they would have to move at least 150 kilometres during the next twenty-four hours if they were to be in a position to support the battle that by now was in progress.

At the divisional departure areas, columns were already forming up, preparing to begin their journey. The division had been separated into different packets: wheeled, trailer-loads, and tracked vehicles. The last of the 300-plus T-64s were loading onto the semi-trailers, the roar of the Maz-537 tank transporter’s engines reaching a crescendo as those already loaded with their cargo pulled away to start their trip west. Often referred to as the ‘Beast’, the Maz-537G was more than capable of pulling the semi-trailer, rated at fifty tons, powered by its 525hp engine, as fitted to many of the Soviets’ main battle tanks. At over nine metres long and able to travel at up to sixty kilometres per hour, it was ideal for the task of moving this key element of the division. An entire transport regiment had been allocated, by the Front Headquarters, to move the main battle tanks, the tracked surface-to-surface missile TELs and some of the surface-to-air missile launchers, to their intermediate assembly area south of Genthin, 150 kilometres away.

On a parallel road, the other tracked vehicles, such as the BMP-2s from the tank regiments, the 142 BMP-2s from the motor rifle regiment, and the remaining tracked vehicles – surface-to-air missile carriers, the self-propelled guns of the artillery regiment and the numerous engineer vehicles, GSPs, K-61s and PTSs – would soon start their journey. Broken down into smaller packets, they too were starting on their long journey towards the front line.

Further afield, an even bigger group was forming up. The wheeled element of the division was in the process of refuelling before they too headed west. They would travel at around twenty kilometres an hour, stopping for a twenty-minute break every three hours arriving at the long-halt area late during the evening of 5 July. The tracked vehicle column would arrive roughly four hours after the wheeled column, their slower speed of twelve to sixteen kilometres an hour making the journey that much longer.

Officers and NCOs could be heard cursing and bellowing at the troops, urging them on ever faster to get their vehicles into the right order and join the exodus west. Others were tucked away into the tree line, waiting their turn to be called forward, adding to the volume of traffic starting to clog the roads. Excluding the three tank regiments and the motor rifle regiment, the division had over 800 wheeled vehicles. A huge logistical tail. Two parallel columns would stretch for up to thirty kilometres each along the road network they would be using, ranging from chemical decontamination and disinfection vehicles to Zil-131 fuel bowsers and ammunition transporters. Soviet Military Police and Traffic Regulators would be responsible for ensuring the roads were kept clear, controlling the speed and the flow of traffic to ensure the divisions needed for the 2nd Strategic Echelon would arrive when needed. This was the logistical element of the division; the lifeblood that was required to feed, fuel, repair and protect the massed armoured armada that was heading to the front to add its weight to the forces pushing the NATO armies out of West Germany.

Aircraft from the Soviet air force circled above, their jets blasting the air as they banked and turned, providing overhead cover should the West decide to interdict this and other divisions, deep inside East German territory, preventing them from reinforcing the Western TVD armies.

0630 5 JULY 1984. 8TH GUARDS TANK DIVISION, 5TH GUARDS TANK ARMY. KALINKAVI
Č
Y, BELARUS.

THE BLACK EFFECT −3 DAYS.

After spending two weeks preparing for mobilisation in secret, 8th Guards Tank Division, of the 5th Guards Tank Army, one of many units under the command of the Byelorussian Military District, finally received its entrainment orders. Prior to mobilisation, soldiers brought back to their unit for their annual refresher training were retained, ensuring this Category-A unit was at full fighting strength. The Byelorussian MD had a powerful force at its disposal and was allocated to the Western TVD’s, 2nd Strategic Echelon. The headquarters, based in Minsk, Belarus, had two Tank Armies, the 5th and 7th, and a Combined-Arms Army, the 28th, under its command. Between those army-level headquarters, they could field ten tank divisions and four motor rifle divisions; although, apart from the 8GTD and the 120GMRD, which were classed as Category-A divisions, at 100 per cent strength, the remaining units had, historically, only been at Category-B status. This was around fifty per cent of their wartime strength. The Politburo, recognising this weakness, had authorised units to retain those soldiers that turned up for their annual refresher training and, as a consequence, most units were averaging ninety-five per cent of their wartime strength. Any troops still requiring additional training would be transported to the front in the next few days. One other powerful force the Byelorussian MD had was the 1st Tank Corps, made up of three tank brigades, with a force of nearly 500 T-72s, and a motor rifle regiment. The MD also had on call an airborne division, artillery division, Air Assault Brigade, Attack Helicopter Regiment and its own air defence assets. To provide air-to-ground support and high-level air defence, it possessed its own air force, consisting of three air divisions. Two fighter divisions consisting of Mig-29s, a fourth-generation, air-superiority fighter, designated Fulcrum by NATO, and Mig-23s. Reported as Flogger, these older Interceptor fighters were still lethal in the air and would bolster the hard-pressed air divisions battling on the European front. A fighter-bomber division, with 130 aircraft, with Mig-27s, SU-24s and 25s, would support their troops on the ground.

The alert had been received by the divisional commander at one in the morning of the 5th July and, since first light, his large force had assembled, after moving the seventeen kilometres by road march to their dispersal areas. The divisional headquarters was based in Homel, Belarus, its subordinate units at various camps throughout the region.

They weren’t the only unit on the move from the 5th Guards Tank Army. The 6th Guards Tank Division at Babrujsk was also moving to railway sidings to entrain, as were the 22nd and 29th Tank Divisions. The fifth division, the 56th Guards Motor Rifle, based at Mazyr, had dispersed, but wouldn’t be moving west until the next day. The Byelorussian MD was being moved to a position directly behind the Group of Soviet Forces Germany (GSFG), ready to take over and thrust the knife deep into the perceived soft West German belly.

The Carpathian and Baltic Military Districts were also on the move; a huge war machine that was on its way to grind the hard-pressed NATO forces into the dust.

The tanks, T-72s, moved towards the entraining area; the division divided into packets heading for one of three stations, two entraining points at each one. Hundreds of tanks and mechanised infantry combat vehicles and a mass of wheeled support vehicles were on the move. Not just this division, but others in this Military District were on the move. The division had been allocated thirty-six trains, each one taking three hours to load. The officers were almost in a frenzy, pushing their junior officers and NCOs to keep to the tight schedule. The first train was due to leave at seven in the morning, the rest following, one every thirty minutes. The first of the electric trains pulled out. Its wheels squealing against the tracks, the hum of the engine noise getting louder, and the clank of the chains as the line of flat cars took the strain before being pulled forward. Railroad transport would play an important role in moving the 2nd Strategic Echelon forces to the front. The Soviet command could use the electric trains deep in the rear, generally safe from enemy fire. But the closer they got to their destination, the greater the risk. Then they would switch many of the electric-locomotives for the old-fashioned, but effective, steam train. Enemy artillery and air power wouldn’t be the only obstacle they would come across. In the Soviet Union, the railways used a broad-gauge line, 1524mm, whereas in Europe the size of choice was 1432mm, a standard gauge. They had laid some broad gauge in East Germany, but not enough to satisfy the needs of the Western TVD. The Soviet rail engineers were already at work converting standard-gauge railway lines to the Soviet broad gauge.

Cha
pter 3

040
0 6 JULY 1984. 62 GUARDS TANK REGIMENT. SOUTH-EAST OF BRAUNSCHWEIG, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLACK EFFECT −2 DAYS.

Trusov rubbed his eyes, still tired despite a relatively comfortable four hours’ sleep. He didn’t feel as exhausted as he had expected after twenty-hours of almost constant battle. Although he felt they had made good progress so far, making headway despite a staunch defence by the British covering forces, their long-range artillery and ground-attack aircraft homing in on the advancing Soviet armour, his masters were of a different opinion. Impatient as ever. Wanting more, and wanting it more quickly. But they had made twenty-five kilometres into 4th Armoured Division’s covering force area. With that, he felt some satisfaction.

He checked his watch as he heard Kokorev clambering up from his driver’s position, Barsukov cursing as Kokorev’s boot trod on his leg. Although the extremely low profile of the T-80, particularly when hull-down, like all the modern Soviet tanks such as the T-72 and T-64, made it a difficult target to see and hit, the upshot was it was cramped, and only the installation of the autoloader enabled the tank to carry a crew of three. Kokorev chastised his comrade and handed him a mug of soup, passing a second one up to Trusov. It was a borscht soup that his driver had thrown together, taking advantage of their short break. He had scrounged around the fields looking for fresh potatoes, vegetables or cabbage, and had returned triumphant. It was welcome, and Trusov thrust his body out of the hatch, settled his elbows on the edge, and sipped at the soup, savouring the smell, chewing on the bits of beetroot and cabbage. It tasted luxurious. His thoughts drifted to the frantic briefing called by his regimental commander, Colonel Pushkin, and the next steps of their advance had been agreed.

After thrusting to the north of Konigslutter, brushing aside the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers combat team in Schandelah and a troop of four scimitars in Destedt, they had finally ground to a halt as A-Squadron of the 3rd Royal Tank Regiment, with four troops of Chieftain tanks, a troop positioned in each of the villages of Dettum, Obersickte, Cremlingen and Salzdahlum, had inflicted severe losses on the 1st Battalion who had been taking the lead, giving Trusov and his men a reprieve and a chance to rearm and refuel. Having destroyed seven of 1st Battalion’s T-80s, for the loss of only two Chieftain tanks, one of those destroyed by a Hind-D, the British squadron had withdrawn, its task done.

During the night, 62nd Guards Tank Regiment had settled down to rest, rearm and refuel. With the adrenalin no longer coursing through their veins, weariness had started to make itself felt. The tank crews snatched as much sleep as they were able, some of them even too tired to eat. 10th Guards Tank Division, supported by 3rd Shock Army assets, and even assets from the Group of Soviet Forces Germany, were planning and preparing for an extensive artillery and air-to-ground strike on the NATO forces protecting the passageway between Braunschweig in the north and Wolfenbuttel in the south. Huge quantities of ammunition had been brought forward during the night, despite the enemy’s artillery and air force attempts at interdicting the movement of the much needed supplies. Stockpiles had been placed close to the self-propelled and wheeled artillery. All they waited for now was the order to commence firing.

10th Guards Tank Division, led by the 62nd GTR and 248th GMRR, had advanced rapidly during the last twenty-four hours, pushing twenty-five kilometres into West Germany, and was now ready to strike again. Trusov had positioned his battalion on the outskirts of Salzdahlum, about five kilometres from Braunschweig and three from Wolfenbuttel. The third-battalion had been deployed in Ahlum and first-battalion on the eastern outskirts of Salzdahlum as the reserve. The regimental recce company had been deployed in Obersickte. The regimental commander had in effect planned to use the three tank battalions as a single echelon, with the motor rifle battalion as a second echelon in reserve. Forcing a breach in the British covering force’s final defensive barrier and crossing the River Oker would see the regiment, and the division, up against the British main defensive positions along the River Leine. The next thirty kilometres would place them south of Hanover, deep inside West Germany. Here the division’s second echelon would take over: two fresh tank regiments, supported by two regiments from 7GTD to the south. At a meeting with the regimental commander, joined by Major-General Abramov, commander of the division, the message was clear: Attack, attack, attack. Again and again, until they reached Hanover. Then, with the rest of the division committed, supported by 7 Guards Tank Division to the south, they would cross the Leine, break through the main British lines, enabling 12th Guards Tank Division, the Operational Manoeuvre Group, to exploit the breakthrough, striking deep into the British rear area, threatening the flanks of Northern Army Group’s other Corps, the German to the north and the Belgian to the south. This time, the artillery and missile barrage would be for a full sixty minutes, the guns of the 700 tanks of the two divisions adding to the volume of high explosive raining down on the defenders.

Trusov jumped, his thoughts interrupted as the artillery barrage let rip, and a deluge of shells and missiles beat down on the defenders, killing both soldiers and civilians alike. Once more, army-level artillery assets had been allocated to this key sector of the front.

Crump, crump...crump
.

He was joined by his gunner. “I don’t envy the British, sir.”

Trusov nodded slowly. “I’m with you on that, Barsukov. It must be bloody hell over there.”

“Do you think they’ll put up much of a fight, sir?”

Crump, crump, crump...crump...crump.

“They’ll fight, but only long enough to slow us down.”

“Why don’t they make a stand?”

Trusov smiled. “Because there’s no point. Their forces are too few to stop us. If they hold their ground, they will end up isolated and will either be defeated or be surrounded and have to surrender.”

“Surely, sir, they have to stop running at some point. We’ll be at their English Channel in about a week at this rate.”

This time Trusov laughed and Barsukov reddened. “Oh yes, they will stop and fight. What they’re doing now is just an attempt to hold us up, inflict casualties, force us to extend our logistical tail, burn up fuel and ammunition. They will stop and fight, Comrade Barsukov, and when they do, we’ll be the first to know about it.”

Schzoom, schzoom, schzoom... schzoom... schzoom... schzoom... schzoom, schzoom, schzoom.

They both ducked involuntarily as wave after wave of BM-21 launched, 122mm rockets streaked overheard. Fifty-four missile platforms sending over 2,000 deadly high explosive packages to swamp the two remaining combat teams of the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers Battlegroup, dug in south of Braunschweig and north of Wolfenbuttel.

“Shit. I’m glad I’m not amongst that lot.”

“It’s just about to get worse for them, Barsukov. We move out fast, as soon as it stops, using the air-to-ground attack as cover. Make sure Kokorev is ready.”

“Will do, sir.” With that, Barsukov dropped back down inside the tank and made his way to the front to chat to his fellow crewman.

Crump, crump... crump... crump... crump... crump.

The artillery assault was incessant, and Trusov actually felt sorry for the British soldiers. He knew that many of them were being killed at this exact moment in time. Every time a salvo of shells bracketed their positions, someone was in danger of injury or death.

Trusov stared at the constant flicker of lights dominating the horizon in front of him, mesmerised by the flashes as the high-explosive shells erupted all along the forward line of enemy troops. This would be the second major push they would make.

One Guards Tank Army would also be resuming its push west, threatening the southern flank of 1 British Corps and 2 Guards Tank Army menacing the northern flank; the British Army of the Rhine was under enormous pressure. The German Army was holding well in the north, defending their own area of responsibility and providing the covering force for the 1st Netherlands Corps as it moved rapidly east to occupy the positions allocated to them to defend. But, to the south, 1st Belgian Corps was struggling to get into position, due to delays in calling up reserve units and initiating full mobilisation, resulting in a weak point in Northern Army Group’s southern wing. Again, the German forces were obliged to temporarily fill the gap.

Round after round pummelled the soldiers of Combat Team Alpha, dug in amongst the southern fringes of Braunschweig, and Combat Team Bravo in Wolfenbuttel. A scattering of troops also defended the wooded area that lay in between the two conurbations. 62nd Guards Tank Regiment’s 2S1s fired shell after shell into the trees of the small wood that lay less than three kilometres in front of Trusov’s position. Trunks were splintered and branches were severed; the troops dug in along the edge were suffocated by the sheer ferocity of the torrent that beat down on them. A battalion of eighteen BM-21s had been allocated to fire a full load of 720 rockets at that particular target. Once fired, all 720 of the M-21OF three-metre long rockets would be launched striking their target mercilessly, swamping the entire area with high-explosive fragmentation within twenty seconds of the firing being initiated. When they eventually hit, the entire length of the forest, a kilometre long and to a depth of 200 metres, erupted into a maelstrom of flying splinters of wood and, from the rockets themselves, lethal slivers of metal tore into the ground, trees and flesh alike. Trusov, although safe, held his hand up in front of his face and felt sick at the thought of himself being on the receiving end of such death and destruction. For twenty seconds, the forest and troops dug in along its edge were laced with a lethal cocktail, the onslaught unforgiving. If that wasn’t enough, after two minutes of preparation, the BM-21s moved positions so they weren’t exposed to counter-battery fire, and prepared to fire again. Ten minutes to reload and, twenty minutes later, Trusov witnessed the utter devastation of the wooded area in front of him. Nothing, he thought, nothing could have possibly survived that. But some did survive. Troops still alive in their holes cowered deep into their trenches, struggling to draw breath, the sound ringing in their ears, the sucking noises as they gasped inside their rubber masks, more than one soldier panicking and ripping off his S6 respirator, cursed by their comrades and NCOs alike. Luckily, the attack was not chemical, but many were killed all the same. Not a single soldier who survived left that wood without feeling shaky and sick.

Wolfenbuttel fared better. Although the rain of shells pounded the buildings into rubble, tore into their quickly prepared positions in the ground around it, the unit was spread over a much wider area. A fully mechanised infantry company, less the platoon defending the forest to the north, along with five Milan firing posts, were still capable of putting up some resistance when the attack they knew was inevitable came. The Soviet High Command had allotted Frog-7, Scud-B and BM-27 missile launchers for the main bombardment on the towns of Braunschweig and Wolfenbuttel. They had only one intention: to smash the covering force once and for all and keep the momentum of the army, of over 1,500,000 men, advancing west.

Barsukov came up alongside, and Trusov felt the shudder as Kokorev started the tank’s engines. He looked at his tank commander and tapped his watch, holding five fingers in the air. “Five minutes,” he mouthed.

Trusov nodded in acknowledgement. There would be no radio messages, no waving of flags in the air like they did in the early days, but his unit knew to pull out in exactly five minutes and attack. To the north, Captain Yakovlev’s recce company, two platoons of BMP and one of T-80s, would conduct a feint to the south-east of Braunschweig, distracting the enemy, also acting as 62GTR’s right flank protection. The scout-car company of BRDM-2s would form a screen on the regiment’s left flank, warning the unit of any enemy counter-attack. Lieutenant Colonel Aminev’s third-battalion with its remaining twenty-six T-80s would strike south, under cover of a smokescreen provided by a battery of the regiment’s 2S1s. His unit would try and filter through the wood to the north of Wolfenbuttel. The motorcycle section from the recce company would help guide them through. The motor rifle battalion would head straight for the centre of the wooded area, fighting their way through the battered British forces there, meeting up with 3rd Battalion’s tanks. Once the wood was secured, the infantry would fulfil their role as the regiment’s reserve, and remain there.

Unknown to the Soviet forces, the British infantry, the remnants of two platoons, one from Combat Team Alpha in the north and a platoon from Combat Team Bravo in the south, were already pulling back to a safe area in the rear. They had done their job – in spite of the fact that they felt like they were retreating taking their casualties with them. But they had left at least fifteen men behind, dead, some unrecognisable after the battering they had received from the Soviet rockets. The soldiers were asking – no – demanding to know where their help was from their own artillery and air force. British artillery had scored some successes in their counter-battery fire missions, but with so many targets out there and the constant need to move to ensure they weren’t targeted themselves, they had little effect in significantly reducing the array of tubes and missiles aimed at their armour and infantry. The air force was in a fight for its own survival. Heavy air and missile attacks on the NATO airfields, along with Spetsnaz sabotage, had disrupted their ability to support their forward troops to any great extent. Protecting reinforcements speeding to the front, preventing their precious airfields from being made unusable and fighting off the Soviet air force that attacked in wave after wave, there was little they could do for their covering force.

The sudden silence was almost disorientating; the artillery bombardment ceased almost as one. A fug of smoke had manifested itself along an entire ninety-degree front ahead of Trusov’s tank. He caught a whiff of propellant on the breeze, coming from the mass of Soviet artillery that had been firing for the last hour.