Hammer of God (Kirov Series Book 14) (14 page)

The
fire died down, then ten minutes later Troyak saw a long line of troops on his
night goggles. The scout platoon had done its job, sent to merely probe the
position and find out if the village was defended, and in what strength. The
Germans had assessed that they must have a heavy MG unit in front of them, and
now they were coming in company strength, at least 150 men against the 50 men
of the Argonauts. A second company was maneuvering to flank the hamlet on the
defender’s left flank, just as Troyak knew they would.

“Tell
the Scimitars they can fire up their engines now,” he said with a smile. The
tanks had been lying in wait, engines off, waiting for Popski’s signal. Then
machine guns and rifle fire split the night, the hot tracer rounds zipping
through the darkness.

“Now!”
Troyak yelled, as the Germans were moving, going to ground, firing and then
making short rushes, but the terrain was too exposed and the defensive fire
from those 50 assault rifles was too withering. The company attempting to flank
the hamlet ran right into the 30mm auto cannon and MG fire of the eight
Scimitars that had been assigned to Popski’s flank. They could make no headway,
and were eventually beaten off with heavy casualties, falling back in disarray,
but then quickly re-assembling in small groups, still a cohesive, disciplined
force.

“That
was the surprise,” said Troyak. “They did not expect that kind of firepower
here, nor did they think we might have armor. Now they’ll hit us with their
heavy weapons.”

As
if in answer, well aimed fire began to fall on and around the town from the
German 50cm mortars. The Russians quickly put both their 82mm mortar teams into
action in reply, and for some time the mortar duel continued, but no further
ground attack materialized. When the first round of combat was over, the
Germans had lost 27 men, with another 18 wounded. Two Argonauts has sustained
shrapnel wounds from the mortar fire and were moved off the orchard line to the
covered housing on the back right flank of the position. The Russian position
had not yet been discovered or fired upon.

“It’s
the tanks,” said Troyak. “They didn’t expect those, and they’ll have to haul up
their AT gun teams tonight. I think we should see nothing more than a few
scouting details further west into the high ground. I’ll have Zykov patrol out
there tonight. The main attack won’t come until just before dawn, so now is the
time to get those helicopters out after the German artillery.”

Popski
was on the radio in a minute, sending the code word out for ‘Black Lightning,’
and it was a good name for what was now about to be unleashed on the
unsuspecting German troops. The three helos moved like bats, swift and stealthy
shadows looming overhead. A few German troops caught sight of them, dark
noisome shadows in the starry sky as they ran with all lights off, scanning the
terrain ahead with infrared optics. As before, they had little difficulty
locating the battalion of German artillery that had been deploying much farther
back, and soon the night sky was ripped apart with the hot streaks of the
rocket pods.

Lieutenant
Ryan and his sidekicks were having another field day, blasting away at the
German gun positions and knocking out seven 105s in rapid succession before
their pods were empty. The rattle of their machineguns went on for a while,
shooting up trucks and anything else on the ground around the three batteries.
It was soon clear that the night had gone to the defense, and the X-3s broke
off and swept south to their designated LZ where a Mastiff armored truck had
been carrying their ammo reloads. They had been busy that day, and found the
ammo running lean when they got there.

Popski
got the word on the radio and passed it on to Troyak. “Lieutenant Ryan says
they’ll need to return to their ship for fuel and supplies, but they’ve done
their job tonight. He reckons they took out a good number of enemy gun
positions.”

“Good
to hear it,” said Troyak. “Because anything they missed will be wanting a piece
of us in the morning.”

Chapter 14

Fedorov
had been digging
in the history books again, looking for anything that might serve British
campaigns now underway against Iraq and Syria. He noted that the history of
these events seemed to be blending into one overarching campaign, just as
Hitler’s latest directive he had decoded from Enigma intercepts seemed to be an
amalgam of Führer Directives 30 and 32. The former was Hitler’s initial order
to support the uprising in Iraq, the latter a more sweeping directive that
historians would later call “Operation Orient,” Hitler’s vision of operations
in the Middle East aimed at decisively defeating the British there.

While
he knew the British had prevailed in all these small campaigns in Iraq, Syria,
and later Iran, those outcomes were far from certain now if the Germans decided
to strongly oppose the British. He had already done what he could in the
meetings with Wavell and Churchill to impress upon them the difficulties ahead
in Syria. That had led to the strengthening of the British order of battle for
Operation Scimitar, but early reports of that action still indicated that the
going was tough, and the French were fighting hard.

Troyak
and the Marines had been operating with the Mobile Force and the Argonauts, and
the news that they had encountered German mountain troops west of Damascus was
alarming.

“They
must have come by sea,” he said to Admiral Volsky. “I think we had best speak
to Tovey about stronger efforts to close off the ports in Syria. Most of the
British naval units assigned are operating south of Beirut to support the
advance along the coast. That leaves Tripoli, Tartus and Latakia all open at
the moment.”

“I
will recommend a stronger covering force there,” said Volsky. “Perhaps the
Argos
Fire
could stand as a radar picket to find these convoys and vector in
British forces. If not, we can do the job ourselves.”

“That
would be good,” said Fedorov, a distant look in his eye that Volsky did not
fail to notice.

“You
have been doing a good deal of reading, Mister Fedorov.”

“Just
trying to see if I can find any fulcrums in the history that might give us some
leverage.”

“Fulcrums?”

“Professor
Dorland called them Push Points.”

“Dorland?
This is the American Physicist who wrote that thesis concerning time travel?”

“The
same,” said Fedorov. “He defined a Push Point as some incident in the stream of
causality that exerted a very strong influence on the course of events, and
often these incidents were of a seeming insignificant nature.”

“Why
insignificant events? I would think you would look for the big things.”

“As
logic might seem to dictate,” said Fedorov. “But no. Dorland argued that it was
often a much smaller incident that served as the real trigger to major changes
in the history, and he pointed out numerous examples. Do you remember the
assassination of Archduke Ferdinand that was a flashpoint in igniting the First
World War?”

“Somewhat.”

“Well
that was mere happenstance. His driver made a wrong turn, inadvertently leading
the motorcade the wrong way, and directly into the path of the man who became
the assassin, Gavrilo Princip. The motorcade had already been attacked once, by
a bomb that failed to hit the correct car. So the route was changed, but the
driver was not properly informed. He turned right to take the original planned
route, instead of left, and when the security personnel shouted for him to stop
and correct the error, he halted the motorcade directly in front of the assassin.
The rest is history—that awful war—which might have started some other way
given the tensions in the Balkans at that time. But that wrong turn just served
as a catalyst to the onset of the war.”

“Mister
Fedorov, you spend entirely too much time in those history books of yours. Is
that what you have been doing, trying to ferret out a Push Point as you call
it? Something concerning these operations?”

“I
suppose so, sir. But things are already changing dramatically. There are
reports of German troops near Damascus, and other units may be operating in
Syria as well. I discovered that Brandenburg Commandos are already in Iraq
organizing local disaffected tribes into an Arab Brigade. These events should
have already concluded, but they remain in play. The British thrust to relieve
Habbaniyah was much more timely with our help. Habforce has pushed on to
Baghdad and sent the Golden Square to flight, but this operation in Syria is
happening much sooner than it did in our history, by at least three months.”

“Is
this a problem?”

“That
is hard to say. I do know that when resistance to the British stiffened on all
fronts, the British reacted by recalling Habforce from Iraq, and the 10th
Indian Division that had come up from Basra. They used these forces to cross
Syria’s eastern border and secure the oil pipeline from Kirkuk to Mediterranean
ports, and all the key pumping stations. This area was lightly garrisoned by
the Vichy French, and the British did surprisingly well. They took Palmyra,
pushed on to Homs on one axis, and the Indian troops pushed up the Euphrates to
Aleppo. This had a good deal to do with the French decision to capitulate.”

“And
now you are worried about these operations?”

“Yes
sir… Small operations, undertaken by lightly armed units, no more than a
brigade or two, but they had a dramatic impact on the course of events. Yet
now, with the Germans introducing units into Syria, those objectives could be
in jeopardy.”

“I
am beginning to think you have another of your plans in mind. Yes?”

Fedorov
smiled. “I do. You are very perceptive, Admiral. I was just considering the
situation near Damascus. The British are moving more troops from Brigadier Kinlan’s
brigade to counter the German buildup there. I don’t see that Troyak and his
twenty Marines will make all that much difference, but they might be used
elsewhere to greater effect.”

“Ah.
Now we get to the heart of things. What is it you propose, Mister Fedorov? Out
with it.”

“Well
sir, I was thinking they might move quickly to Palmyra and secure a hold there
in advance of the British move in that direction. There was only a small
garrison there. The British did everything they could to mask the advance of
Kingcol—that is short for King Column, which was commanded by Brigadier General
Kingstone. It was just recalled from Iraq, as it was in the history from our
time. Their mission is to drive on Palmyra, where there is an oasis site,
airfield, and two key pumping stations on the Kirkuk to Tripoli oil pipeline to
either side of this location. The garrison there is very light, only about 165
men. There were 87 Foreign Legion, 48 air field personnel, and 24 men from a
desert camel company, all under six French officers.”

“You
want Troyak to go after them with one helicopter and twenty Marines?”

“I
know it sounds crazy, as most all my ideas are when I first hatch them, but I
think it could be done, sir. There is an old castle on high ground overlooking
the settlement. It commands the entire area, but the history tells me it was
not strongly held. Most of the garrison preferred the cooled climes of the
settlement and the orchards and groves there. They only used the fort for a few
observation teams, so I think a quick night operation with the KA-40 could put
Troyak’s men on that target easily enough. Once there, their mortars would
command the entire site, and their hand held Ilgas could stop the French and
Germans from using that airfield. That’s what caused the real trouble for the
British, as they had no air cover at all. The French air force was constantly
bombing and strafing their columns.”

“I
see… But what if this garrison turns on Troyak and his men? They would be
outnumbered eight to one.”

“But
the Marines have tremendous firepower relative to the French troops, and would
be sitting on a high stone fortress, protected by a deep trench that once
served as a moat, and with only one entrance. They’ll hold, sir. I’m sure
Troyak can handle this. He will be relieved by King Column, the units of the
4th Cavalry Regiment. They were stymied for twelve days trying to take Palmyra,
but with Troyak’s firepower, and the KA-40, this might be a much easier
battle.”

“Then
you wish to move his unit for this operation?”

“With
your permission sir. I was thinking I might replenish the KA-40, move some
additional fuel supplies to Rutbah where it could be well guarded, and then
brief Troyak. There’s one other odd thing about this situation that he might
need to know—the French legionnaires there at Palmyra were composed of mainly
German and Russian mercenaries.”

“Russians?”
Volsky smiled. “I see where you are going with this. You found all this in your
history books? Once again, you amaze me, Fedorov. And something tells me you
have that longing look in your eye because you may just wish to see to things
first hand there. Yes? Well, you have my blessing. I agree that this would be a
much better way to use our Marines. Go and see to the KA-40.”

“You
mean I am free to pursue this mission?”

“Free
as a bird, Captain. If the ship needs to involve itself in this port
interdiction business, I can handle the matter easily enough, and we will not
have need of the KA-40. Besides, someone has to bring Troyak and his men home
safely, so it might as well be you. But be careful out there. I cannot afford
to lose you. Let Troyak do the fighting.”

Fedorov’s
eyes were suddenly alight with the blue fire of adventure. “Thank you sir,” he
said with great enthusiasm. “I’ll handle everything.”

“Yes,
I think you will do quite well. I have no doubt. But be wary, Fedorov. What if
this garrison is reinforced? What if you find German troops there? Don’t
forget, Volkov knows this history as well, and he may be advising the enemy.”

“All
the more reason to stay one step ahead of them!” Fedorov smiled, and was soon
on his way to the aft helo bay with his new mission in hand. He caught Nikolin
on his way to the next shift on the bridge and told him to radio Popski with
new orders. Then he went down to Chief Martinov to see what he could pull out
of the Marine weapons inventory that might be useful.

The
more he thought about this mission, the more excited he became. He had been
pleased that they had been able to check, if only temporarily, the Axis fleet,
but when it came to events in the land battles, he was frustrated, unable to do
anything more than give his best advice. Now he would be right in the thick of
things, really doing something that might matter, and putting all those facts
and figures he had dug up in the history to work.

Palmyra…
the ancient oasis site that was once colonized by Diocletian and the Romans…
King Column racing through the desert to try and take it by storm before the
French could react… The legendary figure of Glubb Pasha, the British “Lawrence”
of this war, with his Arab legion galloping on the flanks… the Foreign Legion
barring the way in their block houses by the airfield, and one more thing that
suddenly darkened his muse. What about those Brandenburg Commandos? What might
they be up to in all this business now? He knew they had set themselves the
task of impeding Glubb Pasha by any means possible. What was he getting himself
into here?

* * *

Far
away, at that very
moment, the men Fedorov was musing on were already busy making plans of their
own. The Abwehr had already moved to carry out the Führer’s orders involving
Iraq, albeit too late to stop the British operation then underway. News of the
setback at Habbaniyah, and the British advance on Baghdad, set off alarms in
Berlin, and now the elite Brandenburgers were in the country organizing
resistance, just as Fedorov had told Admiral Volsky.

They
used the figurehead of the Grand Mufti as their lightning rod, filling his
coffers with plenty of silver and gold to lure in the tribal leaders, and
staging a massive rally north of Samara where as many as 30,000 tribesmen
flocked to see the Grand Mufti, and hear his declaration of a word that would
haunt western oil men for decades to come—
jihad
. The oil wars that would
end civilization were now beginning, like the first stirrings of restless wind
on the bleak deserts of Iraq—a wind that would grow to the massive storm that
would one day consume the world.

With
arms sent by the French, and flown secretly into Baghdad by the Germans, the
Brandenburgers began to pick through the throngs of the tribesmen and select
out the best and most experienced men for their own “Arab Brigade.” Some were
Sunni, others Shia, but all shared a common hate of the British. Soon General
Felmy had his brigade, which he divided into two units, one under Lieutenant
Brecht, and a second under Abwehr Hauptmann Berger. They immediately hatched a
plan to begin harassing British Operations in Iraq.

“They
will need to supply the troops they send here,” said General Felmy. “So our
first mission is to interdict the rail lines from Basra. This will force them
to move by road, and that will take trucks, fuel and a lot more time. That is
what we must buy the Führer now, so he can organize the rapid movement of more
German troops to this theatre. And we must do all this before the planned start
date for Barbarossa. After that the war will move east against the Soviet
Union, so anything we accomplish must be done in the next 90 days.”