ARMAGEDDON'S SONG (Volume 3) 'Fight Through' (43 page)

Lt Col Chan could see there were signs of stacks
building by the Soviet’s, the stacking up of aircraft that experience told her
had to be strike aircraft. A regiments worth of what she suspected were Sukhoi
SU-25 variants had lifted off from Plzen-Line airbase and had tanked, the first
time that had been seen to happen that day, before flying to Germany to RV with
a trio of tankers and four flights of SU-27 Flankers. The second tanking had
also been a first for strike aircraft that day, providing heavily laden aircraft
with ample fuel reserves.

Lt Col Chan called up the AWAC’s partner in crime, the
JSTARS mirroring their racetrack circuit at 45,000 feet.

“Sabre Dance, Sabre Dance, this is Crystal Palace Zero
Eight, over.”

“Go, Crystal.”

“It looks like the other guys are getting their act
together, we have a regiment holding east of Dessau, loaded for bear and with
nearby tanker support. What’s happening on the ground right now?”

“First line at Vormundberg was breached and the
first attacks against the second line are underway, but its localised at the
moment…we are seeing divisions deploying in the rear though, and we are
predicting that if no breakthrough is achieved within the next couple of hours
the Reds will launch a general assault along the entire line.”

Ann-Marie thought about that for a moment. It would
take a couple of hours to get all the elements set for the divisional attacks
and those regiments weren’t going to carry on burning fuel for that length of
time.

“Is there anything else you need or has that answered
whatever question you had?”

“Just one more thing…how come you get to have the
cooler callsign?”

Her opposite number laughed and then they both
returned to the business at hand. She knew where the SU-25s were going to be
used, and it wasn’t against 4 Corps and it would be in the next few minutes,
not two hours down the line.

She brought up a menu onscreen and cast her eye down
the list of available units for those that had completed rearming and refuelling.
There were three, one Greek, one French and one USAF, and she tagged two
flights from each squadron for immediate take off, noting as she did that two
regiments worth of fresh contacts were climbing toward tankers south of
Plzen-Line, quite possibly prior to heading for 4 Corps, but it was the dozen
radar contacts that were leaving the Dessau stack and making a beeline for
Vormundberg which were of more immediate concern.

Abbot grunted in satisfaction as the Challenger
crested the brow of the hill and halted.

“Please note boss, that I am not one to say ‘I told
you so’.”

The hilltop had received serious attention, as
logically it was a place dug in troops would be. It was pitted with shell
craters and in places these
overlapped,
there was not
a tree that still stood unharmed either.

No artillery was presently landing and Major Venables
opened his hatch with caution, listening for the sound of incoming before
heaving himself up and out, to stand atop the turret.

From the viewing blocks it had looked to be as much of
a maze as the one they had recently given up on, and things didn’t look that
much more hopeful when viewed from outside at first, but then he saw it.

Jumping down off the Challenger he ran to a nearby
pine tree that had been stripped of almost all its limbs so that it stood like
a feature in a kids jungle gym, slashed and hacked at by shrapnel but
nonetheless easy to climb thanks to the stumps of branches. He clambered up
until he could see clear across the hilltop, and although it would be a
something of a roller-coaster ride, climbing in and out of deep craters, it was
do-able.

Mark Venables took the time to memorise the twists and
turns they would need to take, and then he heard the crack of a main tank gun
firing from the direction of 4 Company.

A signaller turned in his seat and raised an arm to
catch Pat Reed’s eye, the commanding officer of 1CG raised a questioning
eyebrow.

“From Four Nine,
‘Contact,
Wait out…’
that’s all
sir
.”

Lt Col Reed nodded his acknowledgement to that
signaller and took a message form from another. It was from brigade and the
text of the message was unwelcome news.

JSTARS REPORTS FURTHER ASSAULT IMMINENT. ONE ARMOURED
COLUMN, SIX COMPANYS DEEP, ALIGNED WITH YOUR RIGHT FLANK POSITIONS.

He wasn’t sure that his two forward companies could
deal with the simultaneous onslaught of over two battalions worth of armour
without considerable help.

Pat crossed to the Royal Artillery reps position and
noticing an unfamiliar face stood next to the RA lieutenant responsible for
artillery support for the unit, and rightly assumed it was the
heli
-borne spotter who had been forced down. Being rather
busy he gave a nod of welcome in passing and gripped his rep by the shoulder.

“Derek, I want MLRS, just a couple of rockets worth
would be invaluable.” He handed over the message form before returning to his
former place.

“What’s his name then, Derek?” asked the newcomer.

“Patrick Reed.”   

The newcomer’s hissed response caused the rep to pause
what he was doing.

“That’s Reed?”

“Yes, why?”

“His son is with my unit.”

“So how’s he doing?” Derek enquired. “If he is
anything like his Father then you’ve got a good one.”

There was a long pause.

“He’s dead Derek, killed this morning at Magdeburg.”

“Oh shit…poor bastard.” Derek thought for a second,
and there was nothing in the Guards officers’ manner than indicated he knew of
the death of his son. Handing the appeal for MLRS support to the bearer of
those sad tidings he then vacated his place.

“Can you take over with this request; I need to speak
to the Adjutant.”

The current combat air patrol covering Vormundberg was
being found by two flights of three F/A-18 Falcons of the Spanish Air Force.
Their own radars were on standby as they followed the steers from Lt Col Chan’s
controllers, guiding them on to the approaching targets and launched at long
range all the AMRAAMs on their rails when instructed, but their targets did not
contest the issue, rolling inverted and diving for the ground on burners the
second the missiles were detected.

The AWAC had those twelve identified as SU-27s, not
the type of aircraft a weenie straps to his back, and the controller providing
the steers raised his eyebrows when they kept heading northeast, leaving the
strike aircraft near Dessau with no cover.

The senior of the Spanish pilots could see on his
datalink the aircraft abandoned by the interceptors, the SU-25s and tankers,
and asked permission to engage with his own flight, the Caballero’s, and the
second flight, the Cuchillo’s, which was granted by their controller who did
not believe in looking gift horses in the mouth.

Lt Col Chan had cobbled together some help for the
embattled troops at Vormundberg, French Jaguars for Wild Weasel flak
suppression, USAF A-10s to stick it to some tanks, and Greek F-16s which when
coupled with the Spanish F/A-18s should keep the Flankers busy whilst breaking
up the inbound strike.

She was tired, and in organising the combined sorties
her eyes hadn’t left the screen in front of her, but they hadn’t been seeing
what was occurring either as her mind had been focussed on the task at hand.

It took a second for her to realised the Spanish CAP
was off the reservation and making a beeline for the Dessau stack.

“What the hell…”

The F/A-18s were east of the Elbe and hustling to
close the range so they could use their Sidewinders when powerful airborne
radar illuminated them. Ann-Marie saw straight away what had happened and cut
into the link, over riding her own controller.

“Caballero’s and Cuchillo’s, abortabortabort…Parase
detenerse…Emboscada, it’s an ambush…get the hell out of there, one of those
‘tankers’ is guiding SAMs.”

At other times the rich Latin tones of the senior
flight commanders voice would probably have made her toes curl, but this was
not ‘other times’. His voice was calm but he was not immediately complying with
her instruction.

“Crystal Palace this is Caballero Zero One, their
CAP ran away, we can take them.”

Upon her screen the symbols for ‘SAMs’ have appeared;
the software classified all fourteen as SA-10s. 

“It’s an ambush Caballero; the ‘tanker’ is guiding
multiple SAMs!”

Her words were unnecessary; she saw the two flights
split as they sought to break the radar locks on them.

To the northeast the ‘fleeing’ SU-27s reversed their
course, hurrying back to their charges.

Ann-Marie watching helplessly as on her screen a pair
of missile symbols closed with, and then merged with one of the Spanish
Falcon’s, the symbols disappeared from her screen. She darted a glance at her
subordinate, the controller who had agreed to the Spanish pilots request, and
despite the impassive features she could see from his eyes how desperately he
wished he could turn back time.

Only two of the Falcons made it back to the relative
safety of friendly lines and the senior of the two requested a steer to a
tanker, having used up so much fuel on afterburner. It was not the same voice
from before.

Had she not already had the Greek F-16s heading that
way she would have been forced to weaken the line defending 4 Corps, diverting
dwindling assets to cover the ground troops in contact.

It had come to that point, where the loss of just a
few flights of aircraft could mean disaster. The Soviet plan had not worked,
the regiments heading for 4 Corps would still be intercepted, but not those
bound for the front.

The stack at Dessau broke up, the various elements
making for their targets and Ann-Marie called up the Greek F-16s, and explained
that the Vormundberg CAP was gone and it was now up to them.

“Timothy, is there a problem?”

The Adjutant had been talking intently with Derek for
several minutes, and the C.O’s words seemed to startle both men.

“Um, pardon?”

Pat hated it when officers of his seemed to be on a
different page, but that had never before been the case with the young Captain.

“The MLRS request, is there a problem?”

The answer came from behind him though.

“Yes, sir.”
He turned to face
the newcomer.

“All MLRS are about to carry out deep strikes on divisions
beyond this one we are currently in contact with. Reloading of all launchers
will take up to three hours.”

All available anti-tank assets were tackling the Czech
battalion moving on 4 Company and soon he was going to have to shift some of
the Apache’s and Lynx in preparation of meeting the even larger threat JSTARS
had detected.

Whilst Pat Reed was mulling over these problems his
Adjutant thanked Derek. He didn’t know how or even when, he was going to have
to break the news to the CO, but right this second was not the moment.

Pat came to a decision.

“Tim?”

His Adjutant sent the artilleryman back to his place
before answering the CO.

“Yes, sir?”

“I want you to get onto the Argyll’s, pass them the
message from JSTARS and ask them if their kind offer of earlier is still open,
plus I want you to inform Mark Venables that I am moving his 2 Troop up in
support of the right flank, and tell him why.”

On the reverse slope Major Venables Challenger had
successfully traversed the side of the hill until it was directly behind the
centre of 4 Company, but heavy shelling of that portion of the hilltop would
have made their crossing back over a character building experience, but the
shelling stopped abruptly.

Mark Venables acknowledged the adjutants transmission
as he stood in the open turret with an AAC Gazelle guiding them across the
hilltop, a door gunner leaning out to point the way around the jumbled trunks.
The brow of the hill was in sight but they could not yet see the action taking
place, but the sound of the defenders fire was rising and he was anxious to get
into a position to support.

Gripping the GPMG mount for balance he braced himself
as their course took them down into yet another shell crater, and up the other
side. Cresting the edge of the crater he could now see their way was clear, and
he waved his thanks to the Gazelle, which moved off.

“Steady there Abbot, one hundred metres until the
ground drops off.”

He ducked at the sound of an explosion to the right,
glancing towards the source, seeing the wreckage of the helicopter hitting the
ground, and then there was a roar as the Gazelle’s killer passed overhead. It
happened so fast that the Major had no time even to think of using the gimpy,
and then he was ducking down again, inside the turret as spent cases rained
down upon them.