Hammer of God (Kirov Series Book 14) (15 page)

“What
about the rivers?” said Berger. “We have information that the British are
setting up river flotillas to move supplies all the way up to Fallujah and
Haditha. They are using shallow draft barges and small river gunboats to guard
them. We must stop those as well!”

“Just
the sort of thing the Brandenburgers are cut out for,” said Felmy. Gentlemen,
get to work!”

Hauptmann
Berger was quick to the job. He selected his best commandos, and pulled a
number of Arabs from his unit and set them to work harvesting reeds from the
vast flood lands of the Euphrates. They wove these into small clusters that
would float easily and serve to hide the commandos swimming beneath them with
small tubes for air. They planned to attack a large, and much needed, supply
flotilla that was moving along the river to Fallujah, now in British hands.
Once there it would be used to supply another British Flying Column for a
secret mission that only Fedorov and a few other men knew about at that time.

On
the evening of March 15, only a few days after the Syrian campaign was
launched, and while Fedorov was still hatching his own plans, the commandos
sprung a well planned ambush on the British supply flotilla. As darkness fell,
the small islands of reeds slowly drifted out into the wide stream of the
river, where the lines of tethered boats were linked to one another by lateral
walking planks, and guarded by two small British crewed gunboats. As the
primary means of defense, the gunboats became the first targets.

The
sun set late at just a little after 18:00, and the gloaming dusk colored the river
in deep vermillion hues as the shadows settled in. It was a quiet night, and
the moon would not rise for another two hours, a perfect time for the attack.
Twelve commandos, Berger’s best men, slipped out of the water in their dark
uniforms and silently climbed aboard, their hands wet on the low gunwales as
they slipped onto the decks of the gunboats, quickly overpowering the two deck
sentries with knife work. Then they moved like shadows, hastening to the
forward cabins to seize the sleepy boat crews and man the twin Lewis guns on
the boats.

Now
the Iraqi Arab recruits joined the raid, quietly swimming to the tethered
supply ships, anchored well out on the river. They were already onto the barges
before a wary guard on one of the nearby bridgeheads opened fire with a rifle,
rousing the small British contingent that was there to off load the supplies in
the morning. The remaining Brandenburgers and their troops of Arab recruits now
opened fire, and the sound of sub-machineguns suddenly burst upon the night.
Someone threw a hand grenade, and the loud explosion resounded over the still
waters of the river. Another little war had begun, just as Fedorov feared, like
a rock in the stream of the history sending ripples in all directions.

Chapter 15

Hitler
was pacing back and
forth on the thick carpeting on the floor of his Reich Chancellery office. The
massive doors were crowned by a gilded gold eagle, and it was over 30 feet from
his desk where the two staff aides were taking dictation, to the conference table
near the hearth where a warm fire cast its yellow glow on the dark stone
paneled walls. The Führer was dictating his next directive, the vision now in
his mind for the future course of the war.

“The struggle against the British
positions in the Mediterranean and in Western Asia will be continued by
converging attacks launched from Libya through Egypt, from Bulgaria through
Turkey, and in certain circumstances also from Transcaucasia through Iran.

“In North Africa it is important
that Tobruk should be eliminated and conditions thereby established for the
continuation of the German-Italian attack on the Suez Canal. The German Afrika
Korps will be brought to the highest possible efficiency in personnel and
equipment, and with adequate reserves of all kinds under its own hand, (by the
conversion of 5th Light Division into a full armored division), so that it is
not necessary to move further large German formations to North Africa.

“The preparations for the attack
require that the tempo of transport be quickened by all means available,
including the employment of ports in French North Africa and, when possible,
the new sea route from Southern Greece.

“It will be the duty of the Navy,
in cooperation with the Italian and French Navies, to arrange for the necessary
tonnage by chartering French and neutral shipping. The possibility of moving
German motor torpedo boats to the Mediterranean, or further German naval units,
will be examined.

“Commander-in-Chief Air Force
will transfer to the Africa Korps sufficient air units and anti-aircraft
artillery for the operation, and he will also reinforce Italian protection of
seaborne convoys by the use of German air formations.”

He paused, thinking to himself
and holding the image of Goering in his mind. The Air Chief had sent his very
own brigade to Rommel in North Africa, a sure sign that he will now do
everything possible to support those troops with the Luftwaffe. But I must not
allow too many resources to be bled away from Barbarossa. This business in
Syria is still far from over, and it may not be possible to conclude the
operation favorably before Barbarossa launches.

He turned, his slow pacing moving
the other direction now, away from the massive doors as he continued to
dictate.

“In view of the expected British
reinforcement of the near and Middle East, especially for the defense of the
Suez Canal and Syria, a German operation from Bulgaria through Turkey will be
planned with the aim of attacking the British position on the Suez Canal from
the East. To this end, plans must be made to assemble in Bulgaria, as soon as
possible, sufficient forces to render Turkey politically amenable or to
overpower her resistance. This concentration will be made in conjunction with
strong diplomatic overtures to Turkey. Should that state grant German forces
free passage through Turkish territory, and renounce all affiliation and
friendship with Great Britain, it may not be necessary to settle the matter by
force of arms.

“To this end, Ivan Volkov and the
Orenburg Federation must also do everything possible to assemble, on the
northern Turkish Frontier, a force of sufficient size to pose a credible
threat. Should Turkey fail to capitulate prior to the planned launch of
Barbarossa, this matter will be deferred until the successful outcome of that
operation, particularly insofar as the seizure and occupation of the Crimea is
concerned, and the destruction of Soviet forces now operating in the Caucasus.

“If the collapse of the Soviet forces
there has created the necessary conditions, preparations will be made for the
dispatch of a motorized expeditionary force from Transcaucasia against Iraq,
with the aim of further reinforcing the Vichy French position in Syria.”

Turkey will see the light soon
enough, he thought, and once that obstacle is removed, and I have freedom of
movement in Asia Minor, then the British will soon feel the full weight of
German military power. The forces committed to Syria to stop the British
offensive there must be sustained and supported, but we cannot yet rely on sea
communications to the Levant. So everything depends on Barbarossa now—on
Manstein and the southern wing. Halder will not like this, but he will be
silenced, even removed if necessary. Keitel and the others will come along. He
smiled, clasping his hands behind his back, and spoke again to the aides who
struggled to transcribe his words.

“
Whether and in what way it may be possible to wreck finally the English
position between the Mediterranean and the Persian Gulf, in conjunction with an
offensive against Suez Canal, is still in the lap of the Gods…” No, he thought.
It is in my lap. The Gods will have nothing more to do with it once I have
German troops in the Caucasus.

“Amend
that last phrase,” he corrected himself. “Write instead… this is a question
that can only be answered after Barbarossa.”

* * *

While
the Führer was
planning all these sweeping maneuvers on the field of war, the Russians were
making plans as well—not in the drafty halls of the Kremlin, where Sergie Kirov
nervously watched the buildup on his southern front, but near a small town in
Syria, west of Damascus. Troyak was huddling with Zykov, who had just returned
from his night patrol on the far left flank.

“I
was up on the high ground to the west,” said Zykov. “They put out a few patrols
looking for a way around our flank, but the ground is very open there. Nothing
but goat tracks, stony hills, and bare earth. They aren’t stupid, and they know
we’d see any movement in that direction easily enough. I don’t think they’ll
try a major flanking maneuver.”

“Well,
we won’t be here to find out,” said Popski. “They’re going to move in a heavy
battalion from Brigadier Kinlan’s force to fight alongside the Gurkhas. We’re
to move out tonight and return to the bridge at Sassa. Then we get a nice long
ride on that helicontraption of yours. We’re joining Kingcol and Glubb Pasha
out east, and they’ve a very special mission planned—just for us!” He smiled.
“But I don’t think the French are going to like it when they get a look at your
lot. Not one bit.”

 “Where
are we headed this time?”

“A
mission in the desert again—something your Captain Fedorov dug up from his
history books.”

“Good,”
said Zykov, checking his assault rifle. I hope it’s a long flight. I could use
the sleep! Any word from the Gurkhas?”

“They’re
in Qatana, at least the one company on our right. I don’t think the Argonauts
have to worry about that flank. That’s one tough outfit.”

* * *

One
tough outfit was a bit
of an understatement when it came to Colonel Gondar’s Gurkha Battalion. It was
rigged out with all the weaponry and optics that the Argonauts had, along with
the cold steel of those Kukri war knives. They had moved rapidly through the
Golan heights, quickly overwhelmed the 3/17th Senegal Rifle Battalion at the
vital town of Kunietra along the main road to Damascus, and then pushed north.
Now they were preparing to attack the French defense at Aartouz, the next major
settlement on that road. There they would encounter other determined men, well
schooled in the art of war, the soldiers of the vaunted French Foreign Legion.

There,
dug into positions in the sedate gardens, beneath poplar trees that lined the
streets, and hidden in the white stone walled houses of the village, the
Legionnaires of 1/6 Battalion were waiting behind their BAR machineguns, and
MAS-36 bolt action rifles. They had loopholed the walls with bayonets to create
view slits for firing, broken out any glass windows, and reinforced the wood
doors. The low rickety fences around the gardens had been sandbagged. Behind
their main positions, hidden in an orchard off the right side of the road, was
the 2nd Company, 63rd battalion of the 7th African Chasseurs—17 Renault R-35
tanks and a number of White and Lafley armored cars.

Against
this reinforced battalion, Colonel Gandar would now send his 1st Company of Gurkhas,
supported by one troop of Scimitar tanks. They would be outnumbered three to
one by the defenders, but it was to be a night attack, where the advantage of
night vision and thermal optics would benefit the attackers.

The
Gurkhas moved out along the right side of the main road, where another dirt
track also followed the winding course of a small gulley. There were small
farms, a single house where the owner had planted a grove of 24 olive or date
trees on his narrow lot, and beyond them a bigger field planted with melons and
grape vines. Lance Naik, (Lance Corporal) Sundar was out on point with his
squad, scanning ahead with his night vision set. He discovered a single outpost
that looked to be a machine gun position and the decision was made to use the
squad sniper to take it out without raising the alarm.

Sniper
Rana Sunil was given the job, using the powerful night optics on his L1115A3
Long Range Rifle. He was camouflaged in his gillie suit, the ragged shreds
bunched on his helmet and trailing down from his shoulders. He unfolded his
stock, and crept stealthily to a good firing position, making a quick pinpoint
check with his pocket Laser Range Finder. The target was just over 300 meters
off, and his powerful night sights with their image intensifier function could
clearly reveal targets over 750 meters out.

Sniper
Sunil checked his noise and flash suppressor, not wanting to reveal his
position. Then he sighted, and in one breathless moment the muffled snap of his
rifle became the first shot of the battle for Aartouz. There were two targets,
and he fired twice—two shots, two quick kills, and the French Machinegun post
was silent and still. Sunil pinched off his command liaison signal, which sent
a single tone to his Halvidar, the Sergeant in command of his squad.

Dhruna
Rai got the message and waved his men on with a slow, level motion of his arm.
The Gurkhas moved like silent death, crouching low and using the considerable
cover available to pick their way forward. They reached the farm house where
the MG position had been posted, advancing in short, quiet rushes. Then trooper
Resham heard voices from within, though it was nothing more than two men joking
and talking in the soft early evening, a corporal and another French private, the
relief team for the two men on the machinegun that were already dead. A single
grenade would have settled that, but it would have been much too noisy, so
Resham reached for the long curved Kukri knife slung behind his right hip, and
slowly drew it out, holding it low so as not to catch the light of the waning
gibbous moon.