The Black Effect (Cold War) (9 page)

C
hapter 11

1
800 6 JULY 1984. ROYAL HUSSARS, COMBAT TEAM DELTA. ROSSING, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLACK EFFECT −2 DAYS.

The three tanks of Delta Troop, of Delta Squadron, The Royal Hussars had all returned to their positions on the eastern edge of the village of Rossing. They had pulled back, one at a time, across the River Leine to receive some minor maintenance and to refuel. Many were now fully camouflaged amongst the buildings of the West German village. One of the tanks was using a barn on the edge of the village, straw bales piled up in front to provide cover. A second tank had sheets of hessian, with pale orange bricks painted in the appropriate pattern. From a distance, the sheets of hessian genuinely looked like the wall of a building. Delta Squadron, designated Combat Team Delta, had two positions to defend: Rossing and Escherde. One troop was at the eastern tip of Rossing, at the junction of the minor road that came from the east, from the direction of Giesen, and met with the two roads that skirted the village of Rossing to the south-west and the north-west. Two of the tanks were dug in 300 metres further east on some higher ground, giving the two tanks a full 180-degree arc of fire out to three to five kilometres. A killing ground. A second troop was deployed in the northern sector of the village, giving the tanks a five-kilometre view out to Sarstedt in the north, Ahrbergen to the north-east, and Giesen to the east. Any Soviet armour or armoured infantry combat vehicles would have to cross four kilometres of relatively open ground; not a prospect they were going to relish. In Escherde, three kilometres south-east of Rossing, a third troop was north of the road that ran through the centre. The village straddled the road, the larger element to the south and slightly east. There sat the fourth troop. The two tanks of the squadron headquarters were two kilometres back along the road, in Heyersum. The Royal Hussars Battlegroup was all tanks. This gave the four combat teams high maneuverability to hit the enemy hard, withdrawing slowly, then dash back across the River Leine to act as 7th Armoured Brigade’s reserve. The other two Battlegroups, the 3rd Battalion, the Queen’s Regiment, and the 2nd Royal Tank Regiment, had combined forces to form a Mechanised Infantry Battlegroup; the 3rd Battalion, the Queen’s Regiment, with two companies and a tank squadron, and the 2RTR Battlegroup with three tank squadrons and a mechanised infantry company.

Lieutenant Barrett had gathered his men around his troop tank to pass on the briefing he had received from the Squadron OC, Major Carrigan. He was sitting on the engine deck, his men gathered around him, sitting on the ground of the garden owned by the house they were now occupying. The occupants had left three hours ago, but not before making the tankers a hot drink and plying them with freshly cooked, hot food. The soldiers had eaten it with relish, stuffing down as much as they could, a reprieve from their tinned COMPO rations. The locals had even left food for the men, destroying the rest, wanting nothing to be left for the advancing Soviet army. Most of the villagers had now left the village, although a few insisted that they stayed with their homes, where they and their families had been since they were born. They wouldn’t leave now, not even for the Russians. The ones that did leave added to the problems for the NATO troops; columns of refugees clogged up the roads. West German Civilian and Military Politzei had to use force on occasions to make room for troops and supplies moving to the front, and injured soldiers being evacuated to the rear.

Barrett’s tank was positioned in between two houses. One of two dozer-blade mounted tanks of the squadron had pushed a mound of earth forward, creating a deep berm in front, just ahead of the houses. When the enemy attacked, all the Lieutenant would need to do was drive forward and he would have a 180-degree field of view out to the east, protected either side by the outer walls of the houses and a solid berm in front. Behind, further into the village, two additional prepared positions lay ready and waiting. After the last position was compromised, if they survived that long, they would cross the river to their new positions further back. He looked down at his men, cups of hot tea being passed around by the troop-sergeant, the BVs being kept topped up for that very purpose. A warm feeling passed through him, and he now looked upon them as family. Many a time he had been asked to intervene with a domestic issue that could potentially get out of control, or deal with a soldier who had spent too much money and was now being chased by the Sparkasse Bank for funds; a soldier who had family issues back home and needed to fly to the UK; or one that went out partying and let his behaviour get out of control and had been brought back to barracks by the German Politzei. There has always been a loose bond between an officer and his men. As the troop-sergeant had a foot in both camps, this bond was even more solid between him and the men of his troop. In these difficult times, the bond was now even tighter. It was driven partially by fear, fear of the unknown, fear that they would fail and let their comrades down, and fear of the enemy with their massed tank armies lined up against them. The small unit now recognised the importance of each other, the mutual dependence that was required if they were to function as an effective unit.

“I have just been updated by the OC, and it appears that the enemy is now en route to our location. I’m sure that doesn’t come as any surprise to you all.” Barrett smiled and the group laughed, a little nervously. “They have crossed the River Oker in force and are not stopping to regroup. It’s as if the devil himself is behind them.”

There was a short buzz of chatter which soon died down as the troopers wanted to know more about the situation and what was coming their way.

“That would be the KGB close behind them with pistols,” said Sergeant Glover as he passed a mug of tea up to his troop commander.

The group laughed, less nervously this time.

“Thank you, Sarn’t Glover. Our lads have put up a good fight, but they have been up against significantly superior forces. When I say superior, I mean in quantity, not necessarily quality. Four-div’s job has been to delay the enemy, not take them on in a head-to-head. That is our job.”

“Shit, sir,” spluttered a corporal, Commander of Delta-Four-Charlie. “That means they’ve gone about seventy Ks in two days?”

“It’s what we expected, Corporal Mason. We don’t want to squander the forces we have out there with pointless stands. We just want to slow them down. Blunt their attack. Then they come up against us, and we stop them dead in their tracks.” He had spouted that phrase numerous times. Did he believe it? He wasn’t sure. He understood the concept of defence in depth and only having forces to the fore to slow the enemy down, but just as the corporal had blurted out: seventy kilometres in forty-eight hours. He continued. Propaganda, he thought, or the truth. “Every kilometre they advance, we are inflicting casualties, forcing them to use up precious fuel and ammunition. Don’t forget, their supply lines are longer than ours.” Providing, he thought, they survive the Soviet air and missile strikes along with the Spetsnaz doing their best to destroy or disrupt their logistics.

“Have our dispositions been finalised yet, sir?” asked Sergeant Glover, Commander of Delta-Four-Bravo.

“Yes, pretty much. Our combat team has Rossing and Escherde. Charlie has a line north-east to Sarstedt. Alpha covers Jeinsen and Bravo Schulenburg. North of us we have the 3rd Battalion, the Queen’s Regiment and, to the south, 22nd Armoured Brigade. 2RTR in reserve.”

“Having a picnic, no doubt,” commented one of the troopers, which brought a smile to everyone’s face.

“Quite. So, the Soviets are going to walk into over 100 tanks. Just sitting and waiting to hit them where it hurts. And with these new babies,” the Lieutenant said, patting the Challenger tank beneath him, “they won’t know what has hit them. They’ve not had an easy ride so far, but when they meet us, they’ll wish they could turn the clock back.”

“They have a huge wake-up call coming to them, sir,” added Sergeant Glover.

“Too bloody right, sir,” came one comment from the troops.

“Kick arse,” came another. Their confidence in themselves and their equipment was undampened.

“What about the Hinds, si
r?” asked Sergeant Glover. “Are we going to get some help?”

“The OC has assured me that we will. Tracked Rapier units are being brought further forward and a Blowpipe section will be moving into the village. So, we’ll have some overhead cover.”

“The Crabs? Been kind of invisible so far.”

“I agree with your sentiments, Sarn’t Glover, but the RAF has been hit pretty hard. They’ve had to move between bases and some of the bases have been put out of action by airstrikes and Spetsnaz activity. There is an invisible battle going on overhead and, at the moment, it appears to be stalemate.”

“We’ll win though, won’t we, sir?” Trooper Mann asked.

“Our fly boys, along with our Allies, won’t let us down, I’m sure.”

“Who are we up against then, sir?” Sergeant Glover steered the conversation back to their immediate issues.

“To our immediate front, we’ll have 10th Guards Tank Division. They’ve been in contact with our covering force from the beginning. Further south, the 22nd are up against 7th Guards Tank Div.”

“Won’t they have been knocked about a bit, sir?”

“Yes, Corporal Tompkins, that is our hope.” Barrett laughed. “But they will have fresh regiments pushed forward now. One or two of the regiments that have been fighting so far will rest and refit and probably be downgraded to the divisional reserves. South of us, Intel think they will have a tank regiment and a motor rifle regiment up front. Between the four, that is still nearly 400 tanks.” Seeing the worried look on some faces, he quickly added, “Our regiment has fifty-six Challengers alone, and the enemy has got to come to us. They will get a bloody nose. This is where we will stop giving ground easily.”

“Infantry as well, sir?”

“South, there will be a full regiment and a battalion from the tank regiment. If we have two tank regiments in our sector, we’ll be up against a battalion from each of the two tank regiments. They have BMP-2s, so don’t ignore them. If they stop, it’s likely they’re going to unleash a Swatter or Sagger missile.”

“T-80s?”

“Yes, Sarn’t. Don’t forget, men, we’re dug in and they have to come to us. After, that is, they’ve negotiated our minefields. The Gunners are going to lay some more FASCAM mines later today.”

“Approach routes?”

“Yes, the bar mines will cover the open ground. So, we need to target any mine roller or mine plough tanks as a priority. If they’re hit, it will slow them down, and we can pound them as they bunch up.”

The sergeant looked uncomfortable as he spoke, not wanting to dampen the troop commander’s, or the troop’s for that matter, enthusiasm. “What’s behind us, sir? Have 2-Div turned up yet?”

“Not quite. Some elements have and they’re digging in further back, covering 1BR Corps rear area. So, if we do have to pull back, we’ll at least have some cover to watch our backs. The majority of the division will probably be in position by end of play tomorrow. So, we have to hold this position.”

“Surely we must have more, sir?”

Barrett looked at his troop sergeant, then at each of his men in turn, knowing the sergeant was voicing the concerns of all his men.

“We still have 4th Armoured Division. They’ve taken casualties, but are being withdrawn. They will have a chance to refit and rest ready to take up the fight again. No doubt they will receive some reinforcements from the UK. They will be our Corps reserve.I have also been informed that 24th Airmobile has been assigned as a reserve. They will be used to block any breakthroughs that occur.”

“With those para nutters coming into the fight, the Soviets best look out,” piped up Trooper Deacon. The group laughed.

“The crap-hats are no bad either,” added Lance Corporal Frith, an ex-para who had decided to become a tankie rather than staying in the Parachute Regiment and jumping out of aeroplanes.

“Look, guys, we have some of the best troops in the world, including yourselves, heaven forbid.” The men laughed, but also bristled with pride. “Our Challengers are a match for any of the Soviet tanks, including the bloody T-80s and T-64s and all the crap they have pinned to it. As for any T-62 or T-72s we come across, they’ll be scrap iron by the end of tomorrow.”

He cast his eye over his men. They had been together as a troop for over a year. His gunner, Corporal Farre, was the longest serving member of the troop, having joined four years ago. He joined as a driver, then moved to gunner, and finally to command his own tank. Now he was Barrett’s gunner, able to take over the tank should the Lieutenant be killed or need to concentrate on troop tactics.

“We keep a grip on our fear. Yes, we will be scared, I will be scared. But if we keep it under control, channel it, we can use those emotions to help us destroy the enemy.”

He caught the eye of every one of his men, his confidence and smile infectious, and slowly every man’s frown disappeared. He slapped the engine deck of his Challenger. “We load, we aim, we fire. We load, we aim, we fire.”

The rest of the troop joined in the mantra. “We load, we aim, we fire.”

“Focus on your specific tasks and hit the enemy for six, and we’ll come through this.” He paused to allow his words to sink in.

“Right, back to your tanks. Delta-Four-Bravo and Charlie you need to move forward to your positions. I have an FFR Land-Rover assigned to take you there.”

He slipped off the rear of the engine deck, bending his knees as he hit the ground. He turned round and grabbed his SMG. “So I’ll be along to each tank to check your camouflage and your fields of fire. Let’s get to it, Sergeant. We’ll check mine before you go.”

“Sir.”

The troopers and NCOs got up off the ground, automatically brushing any dirt or debris off their Noddy suits, not wanting to take any into the fighting compartments of the tanks, their living quarters.

Cha
pter 12

210
0 6 JULY 1984. 62 GUARDS TANK REGIMENT. SOUTH-EAST OF HANOVER, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLACK EFFECT −2 DAYS.

Lieutenant Colonel Trusov, soon to be a full Colonel now he had command of a full tank regiment and not just a battalion, shuffled through the maps and notes he had made earlier. He was disappointed that his regiment, 62nd Guards Tank Regiment, 10th Guards Tank Division, had been put in reserve, although he and his men could do with the rest, as could their equipment. The T-80s were starting to become troublesome. Breakdowns were becoming more frequent, and even Barsukov was getting impatient with the tank’s auto-loader. He had a knack, as did his driver, of keeping the main battle tank in tip-top condition, but even they were disadvantaged by the lack of spare parts. He had given permission to completely cannibalise one of the T-80s, using as many elements as possible to keep others in his regiment operational. This decision had not been received well by his divisional commander, but Major-General Abramov, the Commander of the 10th, the Uralsko-Lvovskaya Division, had relented, knowing the realities of the situation. He had put a bomb under the supply officer and had even solicited the support of his political officer in order to speed up the shipment of badly needed spares to the front.

Trusov looked over the map, tracing the route 61st Guards Tank Regiment would be taking in their assault. The low-watt bulb flickered as the generator hesitated for a fraction of a second, the radio behind him silent apart from the occasional hiss of static. The division was on radio silence; communications would only be allowed once the attack commenced. He grabbed the flask of coffee from the rack in the rear of his command vehicle, and poured himself a drink. It was tepid, but he didn’t mind. It might help to dilute the vodka he had shared with Colonel Pushkin earlier. Pushkin, promoted to Chief of Staff, as a consequence of Colonel Rykov being killed by an airstrike, had recommended Trusov to replace him as regimental commander. A private celebration had followed. The MTLB-RkhM-K command vehicle, although low and cramped inside, gave him some peace, some time away from the regimental command tent, time to think. There was also a strong taint of diesel in the air, a damaged fuel line had been rapidly repaired earlier that day. After a whistle-stop tour of his new command, he felt weary and could quite happily pull his legs up on the wooden bench seat, close his eyes and fall into a deep sleep. But he had too much to do. He knew the battalion commanders, who up until recently had been his peers, would be watching him closely. That relationship had suddenly changed. Now he commanded them, their equipment and their men. He had been plagued with questions about spares, fuel, ammunition, promotions, and had delegated as much of it as possible. He sensed that one or two of the battalion commanders were testing him, envious that it was he, and not them, that had been promoted. But now he needed time to fully appreciate the status of his new command if he was to lead it into battle when called upon. He went back to sifting through the status reports from his battalion commanders.