The Black Effect (Cold War) (5 page)

Under the control of the United States Air Force’s Military Air Command, five Boeing 747s and four C-141 Starlifters had landed at the Frankfurt-main in the last six hours, disembarking over 1,000 men and their personal equipment. At the reactivated Wiesbaden-Erbenheim Air Base, over sixty flights, that had flown non-stop over the Atlantic, including the huge C-5A Galaxy transport aircraft, carrying over 5,000 men and 1,000 tons of supplies, had been landing every couple of minutes, disgorging their loads, refuelling, then taking off again for the return flight. Earlier in the day, ten C-130 Hercules transport aircraft had flown in from Dallas, Texas, and US fighter aircraft were moving to European airfields to be in a better position to defend this vast armada reinforcing NATO forces in West Germany.

Reinforcements weren’t just coming in by air; many of America’s reinforcements were coming by sea. Sea vessels Meteor, Comet, Callaghan and Cygnus had delivered nearly 100,000 tons of equipment to the European continent and were already on their way back to the States to pick up more. The United States Navy Ship, USNS Algol, a roll-on roll-off ship, with the capability to carry and offload the equipment of an entire armoured infantry battalion, had also just docked in Antwerp. The ship had cruised flat out to deliver its load, taking only four days to get from Texas in the US to Antwerp’s port in Belgium. From there, equipment would be transported on railway flat cars to their final assembly areas. One of eight strategic sealift vessels, the cargo hold of the Algol had a series of decks connected by ramps so vehicles could be driven out of the storage areas for rapid loading and unloading. With twin cranes aft and amidships, it was capable of lifting fifty tons and thirty-five tons respectively. At 280 metres in length and capable of carrying 700 vehicles, including tanks, trucks and helicopters, it was a much needed asset for Military Sealift Command.

The US Army was on the move. V US Corps, a key force in Central Army Group, was making headway into its preparations to defend West German soil. CENTAG had to cover the ground from just south of Bonn, down to the Austrian border in the south, with the 3rd West German Corps in the north; then V US Corps, VII US Corps and the 2nd West German Corps covering the entire border of Czechoslovakia and butting up against Austria.

The military policeman’s arm was getting weary; the constant flick of his wrist indicating to the convoys that they should keep moving. A new tank battalion started to thunder by. Having received their tanks from the ‘Prepositioning Of Material Configured in Unit Sets’, POMCUS, depot at Kaiserslautern, the 1st Tank Battalion, 77th Armoured Regiment, 4th (US) Mechanised Infantry Division was also on the move east. The first reinforcements to arrive for V Corps, the battalion were being dispatched to the front line immediately. The rest of the division was either offloading, drawing their equipment from a POMCUS site, or still on the water or in the air.

The tank commanders waved confidently at the German military and civilian police as their M-60s growled past. The occasional German civilian returned the wave. But, if the tank crews could see their faces close up, they would see the fear in their eyes. Another M60A1 rattled past, closely followed by an M113A2 artillery observation APC.

Ch
apter 7

07
30 6 JULY 1984. 22ND ARMOURED BRIGADE. ELZE, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLACK EFFECT −2 DAYS.

The sentry in full battledress, combat DPMs bedecked with foliage, emerged from behind a tree, his self-loading rifle, SLR, unwavering as he challenged the soldier approaching the complex he was guarding. “Halt, who goes there?”

“Friend,” responded the soldier.

“Advance one, and be recognised.”

The soldier moved slowly forward, his SMG machine gun held in his right hand, pointing downwards so as not to spook the guard.

The sentry hissed more quietly, “King of Clubs.”

“Ace of Spades,” responded the soldier.

“Pass,” answered the Royal Signals infantryman who was guarding the entrance to the 22nd Armoured Brigade Headquarters complex, situated in the forest of Osterwald, north-west of the village of Elze, seven kilometres north-west of Gronau. The soldier made his way forward towards the entrance, and the sentry, recognising Lieutenant Wesley-Jones as an officer, saluted.

Wesley-Jones pushed his way through the tent flap of the entrance to the complex, a three-by-three-metre green tent, and was challenged again, this time by a Royal Military Police Lance-Corporal getting up from his seat behind a small square table inside.

“Could I see some identification please, sir?”

Wesley-Jones shouldered his SMG, returned the corporal’s salute and showed his identification card.

The RMP checked it. “Thank you, sir. The briefing starts in about five minutes if you would like to make your way in, sir.”

He thanked the young corporal and passed through the second tent flap on the other side, stepping out into an enclosed area, buzzing with the sound of activity, comms chatter, soldiers rushing to and fro, generators humming in the background. A brigade headquarters was significantly larger than that belonging to a battalion, regiment or even Battlegroup HQ. Scanning the complex, he familiarised himself with the layout. To his immediate right, perpendicular to the tent entrance, were three FV436 armoured command and control carriers, basically 432s with additional communications equipment installed within. The rear door of each one was facing inwards, each with a two-metre by two-metre penthouse tent fixed to the rear, making up the right-hand side of the oblong headquarters nexus. Each of the rear compartments of the 436s, and penthouses, were laid out differently, but most had a table and map boards, officers and men going about their business supporting the brigade that was forward, digging in to defend the River Leine. The first vehicle held the Air element, containing Air and Air Defence Liaison; the second was for artillery; and the third for the commanding officer of the close support engineer regiment. To the left of the entrance tent was a second nine-by-nine tent, occupied by clerks and more Royal Military Police. Perpendicular, on the left, was another line of 436s, making the left-hand side of the complex. These accommodated the commander of the brigade’s Signals Squadron and Yeomen-of-Signals in the first, G3-Operations in the second, the control station of the Brigade Commander, where his watchkeepers would be monitoring the brigade and divisional command networks, manned by the SO3 G3 and watchkeepers from a Territorial Army pool. The third vehicle contained G3-Plans, home of the Brigade Commander where, aided by the Brigade Major, arms advisers and visiting commands, he planned and conducted the battle.

At the opposite end, two further 436s were backed up to the headquarters complex, enclosing the entire HQ in an oblong secure area, accessible only through the main entrance. In one was the SO3-G2 Intelligence, supported by an Intelligence Corps Staff Sergeant and the NBC JNCO. The Full Corporal was responsible for plotting the fallout from any nuclear, chemical or biological attack, guiding the brigade command as to where they could move troops to safety, or move troops away from the path of any contaminated cloud or fallout. The second 436 contained the SO1, G1 and G4 watchkeepers, along with logistics operations. The entire complex measured roughly six metres wide by fifteen metres long; a target the Soviet air force, or Spetsnaz operation, would love to get their hands on. The HQ would not stay at this location long, keeping on the move and keeping the Soviet Electronic Warfare units guessing as to where they were.

Wesley-Jones headed for the nearest of the two large inner tents, the first one containing the operations bird table, the second the plans bird table. He bent down and thrust his head and shoulders through the flap and was met by a buzz of chattering that quietened as all eyes turned towards his entrance. The tent was packed with officers from the various elements that made up the 14/20th Kings Hussars Tank Regiment Battlegroup. The buzz of conversation restarted. Officers, from various forces and arms, were lined along each side of the table in the centre of the dimly lit mini-marquee.

“Come on in, Alex, don’t be shy.” Major Lewis, Commander of B-Squadron, also designated as Combat Team Bravo, laughed.

Red-faced, Alex made his way towards his Officer Commanding and was greeted by his fellow troop commanders and his Commanding Officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Lawrence Clark. He was just one element of the combat team that had been brought together to be briefed by their CO and the Brigade Commander, Brigadier Terence Stewart. On the left-hand side of the tent, leaning up against the tables and chairs that lined that one side, normally manned by signallers and clerks, were the four squadron commanders, and on the opposite side, the fifteen troop commanders Alex would shortly join. Mixed in with the officers of 14/20th Kings Hussars were representatives of the Infantry, engineers, artillery, signals, air force and Army Air Corps.

Major Lewis moved alongside Alex.

“Is this a routine update, sir, or something special?”

“Just an update, Alex, keep us abreast of what’s going on around us.” The buzz was in full swing again, the soldiers also discussing what the briefing was likely to reveal.

“Do we have any idea of what’s happening, sir?”

“I’d like to think so. We have a big problem if we don’t. Look, the Brigadier will be with us in a minute, so I suggest you join your fellow officers over there. We’ll all know soon enough.”

“Will do, sir.”

Just as Alex had negotiated his way around the end of the table and over to the other side where he was greeted by his fellow troop commanders, an officer thrust aside the tent flaps allowing another figure to enter. Someone called the room to attention as the Brigadier and the Brigade Major made their way to the far end where the Brigade SO3-G2, the Staff Officer, Intelligence and Security, Captain Edward Rees, was pinning a large map of West Germany to a board resting on an even larger easel. Other map boards were pinned along, at certain points, on the tent’s sides. Brigadier Stewart turned to face the group. Slightly behind, and to his right, stood the Brigade Major, the officer equivalent to the Regimental Sergeant Major of a battalion or regiment; not a man to cross, whatever your rank. To their left were Captain Rees, Captain Neil Allen, SO3-G3 Ops and Staff Sergeant Douglas Owen, Intelligence Corps.

The Brigadier cleared his throat. “At ease, gentlemen.”

The assembled men relaxed slightly, waiting to receive the update from the Commander. Although some had an inkling of what had transpired, picking it up from snippets of radio conversations and discussions between the various command elements, this would be the first time they would collectively know what had occurred, what was still occurring in this battle, this war that had been thrust upon them.

“Welcome, gentlemen. It is good to see you have all arrived safely, notwithstanding that I wish we were meeting under very different circumstances. We have met under canvas like this on many occasions in the past, but always as part of a field or command post exercise. On this occasion, the circumstances are much more grave.”

He caught the eye of as many of his officers as he could, subject to the lighting. He wasn’t a big man, but had presence. With his sandy-coloured hair, sometimes slightly tufty as if the barber had missed a small section, and a ruddy complexion, he looked almost paternal. Until a scowl froze you on the spot. He was a soldier’s soldier. A warrior. He would get actively involved in the training of his brigade and, when time allowed, had been known to participate in their fitness training.

“Before I say my piece, I will hand you over to Staff Sergeant Owen. He has been tracking the enemy movement to our front and keeping abreast of the bigger picture from Division and Corps. Staff Owen.”

The Brigadier, and the rest of the officers at the end of the table, stood to one side allowing Owen to come to the front.

“Sir.”

“Come on, squeeze up, squeeze up. Get as close as you can,” instructed the Brigade Major with marginal impatience. “We’ll issue you with a briefing document and your orders before you leave, but in the meantime having a view of the maps will help.”

The officers shuffled forward as best they could. The Staff Sergeant tapped the first map on the easel, using a stick he had stripped from one of the trees outside.

“First I will cover the bigger picture.” At six foot two, he could almost look over the heads of his superior officers lined up with him. “I will work from the south to the north.”

“It is important that you all understand the overall situation that AFCENT finds itself in. Whatever affects the Allied Forces in Central Europe will impact on our Northern Army Group,” added the Brigadier. “If NORTHAG has to respond then 1 BR Corps will potentially have to respond. So, dig in well, but always be ready to move when called upon.”

He nodded to the Staff Sergeant to continue.

“In the south, in Central Army Group’s southern area of responsibility, they are up against the Czechoslovakian army, the CSLA. A division from the CSLA’s eastern district has reached as far as the River Danube, as have elements of the 4th CSLA Army. Central Group of Soviet Forces is also advancing on Austria and Southern Germany.”

He tapped the map. “Here, further north, the 1st CSLA Army has reached as far as the River Regen and the River Naab. Further north still, they have advanced as far as Bayreuth. The Austrian army, along with the 2nd German Corps, part of CENTAG, is under severe pressure. This is the southern boundary of the American VII Corps’ sector.”

He paused to catch his breath, taking in the expectant faces. Normally briefings like this would be met with stifled yawns: being told about Orange Force movements, British units acting in the role of the enemy. This time, their life may well depend on the information that was being imparted to them.

“Further north again, 1 Guards Tank Army has already reached Schweinfurt. Elements of US VII Corps is holding its own and reinforcements are on their way. The Soviet 8th Guards Tank Army has breached the Fulda River and has occupied the town of Fulda itself, along with Bad Hersfield. Soviet Air Assault Battalions have been in support, and the US cavalry regiment, acting as the covering force, has withdrawn in good order. But, they have suffered heavy casualties. The 3rd German Army, the
Volksarmee
that is, is crossing the River Fulda at this very moment.”

He shifted his stick to the upper section of the map. “I will come back to 1 BR Corps in a moment. The Soviet Northern Group of Forces have also made good headway, reaching as far as the western outskirts of Luneburg. The 8th Germany Army, the DDR, under command of the Northern Group of Soviet Forces, has taken Lubeck and have reached the gates of Hamburg itself.”

There was an intake of breath. The soldiers knew that the Warsaw Pact would advance quickly, but to already be at the fringes of Hamburg was a hard fact to swallow.

“Elements of the northern force are also moving north into Schleswig Holstein. A Bundeswehr panzer division, acting as a covering force, is doing its best to slow them down, but the enemy numbers are overwhelming. Although Warsaw Pact forces haven’t crossed the River Elbe to the north, they have crossed it to the south.”

He swept the pointer in an arc across the upper section of map. “Crossing the Elbe, the Warsaw Pact forces would then have the option of swinging north and cutting behind the second Bundeswehr panzer division covering force, cutting them off and isolating Hamburg. Hamburg’s only link with the rest of West Germany would be by the sea.”

He paused and pulled a notebook from the front pocket of his NBC suit. “To NORTHAG. 1st Netherlands Corps is moving into position around the Bremen area. Another Bundeswehr division is covering that sector until the Dutch are there in strength. 1st German Corps, south of the Dutch and north of 1st British Corps, are in position, with their covering force withdrawing, slowing the enemy down. Our area of operation, from south of Hanover to north of Kassel in the south, I will cover shortly. South of us, and the last Corps of NORTHAG, 1st Belgian Corps, is moving through the dense forests north of Frankfurt. A Bundeswehr panzer division is holding the Soviets back until the Belgians are there in force and able to dig in.”

The Brigadier held up his hand. “The three German Corps are extremely powerful, but the three divisions acting as a covering force can only conduct limited operations until the Dutch and Belgians take up the slack. So we do need them to get their act together quickly. I will cover our positions when Staff Sergeant Owen has finished his piece, which I think is nearly done. But, generally, 1 BR Corps and 1 German Corps are in position, but our northern and southern flanks are vulnerable. Carry on, Staff.”

“Sir. Enemy positions, 1 BR Corps sector. As expected, we are up against 3rd Shock Army.”

“As expected,” the Brigadier said with a chuckle, eliciting a response from the group, most of their faces breaking into a smile.

“It appears, as expected, that we have 2nd Guards Tank Army to the north and 1st Guards Tank Army to the south. At our immediate front, the two 3rd Shock Army units we are up against are the 10th Guards Tank Division and the 7th Guards Tank Division. These are the Army’s 1st echelon divisions and we have been fighting those divisions’ 1st echelon regiments for the last twenty-four hours. They are currently in the process of forcing a crossing over the River Oker.”