The Blue Effect (Cold War) (28 page)

His OC, Major Brooks, had hinted at there being a bigger picture. He remembered seeing Chieftain tanks further to the rear when he had been to the Brigade headquarters for a briefing. Some were undergoing repairs, and others rearming and refuelling. For the second part of the briefing, the commander of 15th Infantry Brigade had dismissed them, allowing only battalion commanders and above to remain behind. One other incident had stuck in his mind. An American officer had been attached to the Brigade as a liaison officer. But, there were no American units in the area, or so he thought.

He looked behind him as he heard the growl of the Fox’s Jaguar engine. The sergeant in command of this vehicle, and another like it attaching itself to Two-Platoon, would give them a little more firepower. With the 30mm RARDEN cannon, along with the machine guns from the Saxons, they would give the Soviets a run for their money. The BMDs would also have to face the two Milan firing posts attached to One and Two-Sections, along with two more with One-Platoon. Behind them, one of the batteries from the 101st Northumbria Field Artillery Regiment would also be preparing their shells to give the advancing enemy some more to think about.

C
hapter 33

0
410, 11 JULY 1984. ELEMENTS OF 24TH AIRMOBILE BRIGADE. AREA SOUTHWEST OF BECKEDORF, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT +10 HOURS

The team waited patiently for a gap in the traffic. At one point, the convoys going west had been almost stationary – it was moving that slowly. They appeared to be fuel tankers and ammunition carriers in the main.
A fantastic target
, thought Sergeant Jackson. He was slightly worried. Dawn was rapidly approaching, and daylight would make it easier for the drivers to see the deadly blobs laid across the road. Keeping out of sight, he looked down both directions of the road and could see a gap about to appear. He ordered the team to split. Sergeant Jackson and Corporal Simmons gathered their deadly packages and, on his command, after the last vehicle driving west had passed them, sprinted across. Sergeant Jackson headed for the other side of the dual carriageway while Corporal Simmons laid his mines on the southern stretch. Vaughan headed east and Perry west to get to prepare to set off the LAW off-route mines. The ambush was set. Hannoversche Strasse, Route 65, had now become a death trap for the enemy.

Their final preparations complete, Jackson went west to join Perry, avoiding the anti-personnel mines that had been set, and Simmons went east to wait with Vaughan.

They didn’t have to wait long as vehicles from both directions, having a free road ahead of them, drove at a speed of sixty kilometres per hour and ploughed straight into the mines. The front of the first, a Zil-131, was lifted off the ground and flipped over, its momentum forcing it to continue on its journey, the vehicle sliding down the bank 100 metres further on. Behind it, a second Zil, attempting to avoid the vehicle in front of it before it careered off the road, turned right to pass it, hitting another one of the explosive traps. The driver of the vehicle behind, failing to follow the requirement of keeping a fifty-metre gap between convoy vehicles, stood on the brakes, but only succeeded in slowing the inevitable collision with the vehicle in front. On the opposite lane, a similar event was occurring, but one of the trucks was carrying aviation fuel for the Soviet helicopters and erupted in a ball of flame. As the convoys on both sides of the road ground to a halt, the four men unleashed the off-route mines, destroying an armoured BRDM-2 and two further trucks. The fourth failed to fire. But it would be some time before the Soviets sorted out the mess.

It was time to go.

0430, 11 JULY 1984. SAS TROOP, 22 SPECIAL AIR SERVICES REGIMENT. SOUTHWEST OF WUNDSTORF, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT +10.5 HOURS

The eight men from 22 Special Air Service Regiment watched from their place of concealment as a small convoy of trucks approached the bridge from the west. They were Ural-375 fuel bowsers, needed to feed the ever-hungry armoured units of the Soviet Army. The trucks going east were empty, but their destruction would still be missed. They were badly needed to pick up more supplies to feed the fuel-hungry Soviet divisions.

The charge demolition necklace was in place. It was time. The team leader pointed at his watch and hit the detonation switch. Seconds later, the wedge-shaped hollow charges that had been placed each side of a selected girder and clipped together, exploded. The hot force of the ‘Hayrick’ charges cut through the steel of the girders as if they were butter. The centre of the bridge lifted, flinging vehicles into the kerb and up against the railings, before dropping back down and collapsing, falling to the depths below, taking vehicles and some of the sentries with it. Another thorn had just been pierced in the enemy’s side.

The eight men pulled out, their job done, but their work was far from complete. They had a second mission to perform.

It was time to hit back a second time.

0530, 11 JULY 1984. 1 BRITISH CORPS COUNTER-ATTACK. PETERSHAGEN, RINTELN AND HAMELN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT +11.5 HOURS

The six missiles, launched moments earlier from the British 50th Missile Regiment, flew through the air at a speed greater than Mach 3. Six missiles, each one carrying an M251 warhead loaded with high-explosive sub munitions, struck the advanced elements of the attacking forces when they were less than three-kilometres from 2nd Infantry Division’s second line of defence. The Soviet 12th Guards Tank Division, urged on by their masters, had gone for a narrow front, hitting the seven-kilometre gap between Minden and Petershagen. The Soviets had bombarded the 2nd Battalion, Yorkshire Volunteers, who had been given a three-kilometre stretch north of Minden to defend, with a forty-five-minute deluge of high explosives, and a significant air-to-ground strike. Following it up with an entire air assault battalion landing directly behind them. Although the 4th Battalion (Volunteers), the Parachute Regiment, defending the line north of the Yorkshire volunteers, had managed to release a company to send in support of the beleaguered battalion, it was soon mauled by Soviet Hind and Hip attack helicopters and went to ground. By then, it was too late and, within an hour, Soviet amphibious vehicles, K-61s carrying troops and heavy amphibious pontoons, along with GSPs carrying armoured vehicles, 12th Guards Division crossed the Weser. The minute a bridgehead was secured, the Soviet bridging units with their PMP pontoons were rushed forward under an umbrella of Soviet fighter aircraft. The speed at which the floating bridge was erected defied all records, and from the first pontoon unfolding in a splash into the waters and the first BMP-2 crossing to the other side, only forty minutes had passed.

The Bear, far from being a patient taskmaster, drove his commanders and his soldiers relentlessly. The Territorial Battalion to his front just crumbled, and the tough paratroopers to the north, although they fought bravely and at times almost fanatically, were no match for the ever increasing number of infantry combat vehicles and tanks. They were quickly rolled up as more and more troops poured across. The Bear knew that there was a third British battalion ahead of him, but he’d received reports that, under attack from Soviet airborne troops from the front and back, they were being withdrawn, probably before they were completely surrounded and overrun. He was surprised at the state of the British defence.
Where was their armour? Where was the American unit that was designated as a NORTHAG reserve? Had it been sent to support the Dutch and Germans to the north?
The Bear had raised it with his superiors, but he had been slapped down and told, in no uncertain terms, that his division was to do what it had been selected for: take advantage of a weakness in the enemy’s defence, exploit it and push for the coast. They had reminded him that units of the 20th Guards Army were close behind him, and as soon as a fresh unit could bypass their advance division, recovering from the consequences of a tactical nuclear strike, he would have the reinforcements he needed. Before he could respond, reminding them that it was becoming a traffic jam back there, he was reminded of his mission and the connection was broken.

Now, up to six kilometres west of the river, one of his battalions was pushing west, and another northwest, smashing through the remnants of 6RRF when the British artillery struck. With two MTLB command vehicles back to back, a tent covering the gap in between, the Bear screamed down the radio at his commanders.

“Dorokhin, I don’t care if you’re being shelled, just keep moving. You have to take Diepenau.”

“We are moving, sir, but we’re being hit regularly by their artillery.”

“If you keep on the move, get close to their lines. They will have to stop.”

Colonel Dorokhin, commander of the 353rd Guards Tank Regiment, paused before responding.
“We have been struck by NATO missiles. The sub munitions have crippled one of my companies. I am moving around them now. Over.”

“Just take Diepenau. I’m sure you don’t want me to replace you with another officer, or even come down there and take command myself. Out. Tsaryov, Tsaryov, where are you? Report. Over.”

“Sir. Just hit a British headquarters pulling out of Hille. Finishing them off. Over.”

“Tsaryov, don’t you listen to your orders? Leave them. Get your tanks moving. I want you in Frotheim by midday and Espelkamp occupied soon after. Do you understand? Over.”

“Yes, sir…we are being…hit by heavy…”

“Come in, Tsaryov. Over.”

“Sorry, sir. The British are throwing everything at us.”

“Understood. You have your orders. Out.”

The political officer and deputy commander, Colonel Yolkin, popped his head through the tent flap.

“I’ve been listening to the transmissions, Comrade General. They don’t seem capable of giving us the victory our Politburo is demanding.”

The Bear lit up a cigarette and turned to his deputy. “Well, you’ll get a chance to find out for yourself. I’m going further forward and you’re coming in with me.”

“But…but—”

“No buts, Yolkin, that’s an order.” The Bear spat out a piece of tobacco. “You are, believe it or not, a Soviet officer and you will obey my orders. If you don’t, I’ll have you shot. We leave in thirty minutes. Now, get out!”

The political officer paled before withdrawing his head from the flap and leaving to prepare for his excursion to the front. He was shaking.

More salvos descended in the area, and the Bear looked up, as a rolling barrage appeared to be less than a kilometre from his position. Taking another pull on his cigarette, he reflected on the situation. He knew he would need to contact headquarters again soon, and it wouldn’t be pleasant. Something was worrying him, though. The NATO forces’ artillery bombardment was proving ferocious. His bridgehead was clogged with logistics vehicles bringing forward ammunition and fuel. His forward units had to get to grips with the enemy so he could start prioritising his own artillery strikes. At the moment, they were firing blind. He had screamed at his engineers to put more bridges across, and the GSPs were working flat out to bring more and more armour across. His two forward regiments still weren’t up to full strength. It was taking over an hour to get a battalion across, and he needed more crossing points if he was to bring forward his other two regiments. Although they were the weaker units, having been fighting almost constantly for days, he would feel happier having his entire division across the water. He didn’t have a lot of faith in the follow-up forces getting here quickly. Also, if the British shifted their fire to his bridgehead and river crossings, it could prove problematic. He needed to get to the front.

C
hapter 34

0
535, 11 JULY 1984. 3RD PANZER BRIGADE, 1ST PANZER DIVISION, 1ST GERMAN CORPS. SOUTHWEST OF VERDEN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT +11.5 HOURS

The Leopard tank, a fifty-five-ton Leopard 2, powered by its liquid-cooled 47.6 litre V-12 engine, hummed as the driver eased it forward into the brush ahead of him. It rocked forward gently as the driver made some minor changes to the tank’s position, guided by his tank commander. The glacis of the German main battle tank barely poked its nose through the hedge line, some of the shrubs slightly higher than the top of the turret. The commander still had a good view overlooking the River Weser and the road, the 215 that ran north to south, less than 500 metres on the other side. Hauptmann Faeber ordered his crew to camouflage the tank well, using some of the foliage close by. To their left, fifty metres away, a second tank pulled into position. Although this stretch of the river had been defended over a number of days, the previous occupants had been pulled back after being battered by Soviet heavy artillery and air strikes. Decent defences had been dug, and they would move to those once an assault river crossing started. In the meantime, they would remain mobile, mitigating in some small way the threat of a regular pounding from the Soviet artillery. The Soviets were bringing more and heavier artillery forward, such as 203mm self-propelled artillery and 240mm mortars. He made a note to get the engineers forward all the same, and dig some new berms along the length of his patch, so at least they would have some ready-made positions close by to drive into.

He dropped down from turret, onto the engine deck, and descended onto the remnants of a cornfield that bordered the hedge line.

The gunner moved the turret left and right, checking that the barrel of the 120mm smoothbore main gun was clear to move in a full arc. One final sweep and he was happy that nothing would get in the way should they need to fire.

A DKW Munga F 91/8 Jeep pulled up alongside, and a Bundeswehr officer stepped out, calling Hauptmann Faeber over. The driver of the Jeep also got out and crossed over to the tank to talk with the crew and perhaps acquire a cigarette, his having been lost during the last retreat.

“Herr Major.”

“Klaus, I have an update for you.” The Bundeswehr major placed a map on the bonnet of the Jeep. “The large manoeuvres planned by NORTHAG are in progress.”

Hauptmann Faeber leant over and followed his senior officer’s pointing finger.

“There’s a major artillery strike on the enemy here,” he held his finger over a length of the River Weser from Porta Westfalica to Petershagen, “along with two major air-to-ground strikes. They are in support of a major counter-attack, consisting of a British Division and a US Brigade.”

“Not using our reserve Brigade, then?”

“No, not now the Americans have got here.”

“Any more intelligence on the tactical nuke strikes, Herr Major?”

“They have done their job, Klaus, but we’re waiting for the Soviets to retaliate. If they are going to then it will definitely be during the counter-attack. We’ve been ordered keep our forces well dispersed. You are to take your platoon to this location.”

Hauptmann Faeber looked at the major quizzically. “What if they use their strikes as an opportunity to launch an attack against us?”

“If we get hit by tactical nuclear missiles, and we’re not in some decent cover and widely dispersed, we won’t have a battalion left.”

While they had been talking, an eight-wheeled Luchs, an armoured reconnaissance vehicle with a 20mm gun mounted in its turret, sped past. Following behind were four Marder armoured infantry fighting vehicles (AIFVs), mounted with their deadly remote-controlled machine gun along with the Milan anti-tank guided missile system. They drove quickly, not wanting to draw fire from any Soviet unit on the opposite bank. The growl of engines slowly diminished as they left the Leopard tank and the two officers behind. One swung right, heading for the hedge line overlooking the road, the other continued on. The mechanised infantry platoon would reinforce the tanks already here; providing the tanks with cover should they experience an assault by enemy infantry.

“The Infantry will be pulled back as well at the appointed time,” the Major informed Faeber.

“Are we leaving anybody to watch the river?”

“Of course, Klaus. If they want to cross here, they can soon land an airborne assault. If they hold it long enough, they could very quickly ferry more troops across and then they have the beginnings of a bridgehead. We’ll leave some reconnaissance troops all along the riverbank and, should they make that attempt, you will be ordered forward.”

Klaus looked at the map. “From these deep protection positions, we could be back here within fifteen minutes.”

“We have a quick reaction force from the rest of the battalion, who could be here in ten. There’s also a company of Fallschirmjager, within a ten-minute helicopter flight, on standby.”

“Swapping parachutes for helicopters.” Klaus smiled.

“It doesn’t make them any less crazy,” laughed the major.

“Are we expecting them to attack along this stretch, sir?”

“Again, I am only surmising. The British are already advancing from their staging areas around the west of Minden and Petershagen.” He spun the map around so Klaus could see where he was pointing. “The Soviets are already across the Weser. It’s possible they may also attack furhter north.”

“Hit the Dutch.”

“Maybe. With the Soviet army crossing between Minden and Petershagen, they’ll want to put some pressure elsewhere along the front. There is as good a place as any.”

“Then why don’t we do the same?”

“Do what?”

“Counter-attack. Take the bloody fight to them.”

The major clapped him on the back. “Hauptmann Klaus,” he laughed. “We’ll make a battalion commander of you yet.”

“We’ve been either digging in or running. It’s about time we did what we’ve been trained to do: fire and manoeuvre.”

0535, 11 JULY 1984. 45TH PAANTSERINFANTERIE BATTALION, 42ND PANTSERINFANTRIEBRIGADE, 4E DIVISIE, 1 NETHERLANDS CORP. OUTSKIRTS OF BREMEN, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLUE EFFECT +11.5 HOURS

Lieutenant Dahlman ordered the soldier to open fire, and the 25mm cannon blasted the upper windows of the building opposite. After about twenty rounds, the YPR-765 armoured infantry fighting vehicle quickly reversed back down the street, just as a rocket-propelled grenade (RPG) struck the building they were next to, sending a deluge of bricks and mortar crashing down onto the street. The battalion, responsible for this section of the River Weser, had been playing cat and mouse with the troops opposite for the last couple of days. The Soviets had been probing, looking for opportunities to get soldiers across to the other side of the river that transited through this major West German city. It was proving wearing for both sides and the 42nd
Pantserinfantriebrigade
had been sent in to replace the Canadian Brigade that had initially been responsible for the city’s defence. The 1st Netherlands Corps was recovering from the brunt of the attack by the 1st Polish Army, and expected a renewed attack by either the Polish or elements of the Soviet Guards Army at any moment. The Polish army had been very quiet, parts of it still recovering from the tactical nuclear strike. They were aware of the nuclear strikes, and that the Dutch Government had agreed to them as their own troops had suffered badly as a consequence of the chemical attacks.

All they could do now was wait: wait for the outcome of NORTHAG’s counter-attack; wait for the Warsaw Pact’s response.