The Black Effect (Cold War) (16 page)

“
Delta-Four-Alpha, Delta-Four-Bravo...movement, 2,000 metres, near high ground west of Giesen. Cannot identify at this time. Over
.”

“Numbers. Over.”

“
Delta-Four-Bravo...ah, maybe three, no four. Large, possibly main battle tanks. Over
.”

“Roger, out to you. Zero-Delta, this is Delta-Four-Alpha. We have sighting at grid Charlie, five, nine, five, Echo, eight, two, nine. Unidentified armour, numbers estimate figures four. Over.”

“
Roger
.”

Earlier Lieutenant Barrett had provided his squadron commander with a situation report on his troop, and he in turn had received feedback on the state of the squadron. His troop had survived intact. Most of the shells and missiles had landed behind him and the aircraft had not spotted his position. The two Challengers he had pushed forward hadn’t been touched. The Soviets had a vast area to bombard and clearly had difficulty in picking out the well-camouflaged British defenders east of the river. Had they spent more time on preparation and completed a more detailed reconnaissance of the defensive positions, the artillery and missile strikes might have been more effective. But urgency seemed to be what the Group of Soviet Forces Germany Commander was advocating, keeping the pressure on NATO, giving them no time to effectively dig in using properly prepared positions.

The squadron hadn’t got off scot-free. B-troop, covering the northern section of Escherde, had been completely wiped out. Something had given them away and the Soviet air force had all but flattened the village north of the road, completely destroying all three of the Challengers and killing their crews. One of the tanks of the troop south of the road had suffered minor damage and was already racing west down the road that would take them through Heyersum, the location of the squadron HQ, then north-west to cross the river where the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers (REME) would attempt to work their magic. But of the six tanks defending that stretch, they were now down to two. Combat Team Charlie had received a battering, losing three tanks and one damaged while the units west of the river, although receiving the bulk of the arty and air attention, had lost only two tanks between them, one with minor damage. Still, for a tank regiment to lose eight of their fifty-six, plus three damaged and one broken down, without firing a shot was of concern to all.

“
Delta-Four-Alpha! Explosion our north-west. They’re breaching the minefield
.”

“Roger. Is there smoke? Over.”

“
Negative, no smoke. Can now see figures three, Tango-Eight-Zero, 1,500 metres, north-west my position
.”

“Delta-Four-Bravo, standby. Zero-Delta, three, Tango-Eight-Zeros, 1,500 metres north-west call sign Delta-Four-Bravo. Request strike, stop line Jackdaw. Over.”

“
Delta-Four-Alpha, Delta-Four-Bravo. Explosion east of my position. Target 1,500 metres, Bravo-Mike-Papas, possibly four
.”

“Roger. Out to you. Zero-Delta. Target, 500 metres east of stop line Jackdaw, request strike. Over.”

“Zero-Delta Roger.”

“
Delta-Four-Alpha! This is Delta-Four-Bravo! Eight, I repeat eight Tango-Eight-Zeros 1,200 metres north-west. Ten, I repeat ten, Bravo-Mike-Papa-Twos 300 metres east of Jackdaw. Permission to engage. Over
.”

“Negative. Hold your fire.”

“
This is Zero-Delta, to all Delta call signs. Shot out
.”

“Delta-Four-Bravo and Charlie. Shot out, batten down.”

“
Roger.
”

“
Roger
.”

0450 7 JULY 1984. 62 GUARDS TANK REGIMENT. SOUTH-EAST OF HANOVER, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLACK EFFECT −1 DAY.

“
Six-Three, Six-Three-One. Breached minefield. Advancing.”

“Six-Three, Six-Three-Four. Engineers through minefield. First company, moving. Out.
”

“Like a dream,” purred Antakov.

“
Six-Three, Six-Three. Under heavy artillery fire! Two call signs destroyed. No three!”

“Call sign, identify yourself!”

“Six-Three, Six-Three-Four. It’s a cauldron. Over. I’ve lost contact with more of my call signs
.”

“
Six-Three-Four, you are relieved of command. Major Petrov, are you receiving? Over
.”

“
Petrov receiving! Driven through the barrage, lost two vehicles. Once clear, we hit scattered mines. Request urgent mine-clearing support. Over.”

“Understood. Assume immediate command of Six-Three-Four. Acknowledge.”

“Roger. Assuming command. Six-Three-Four-Alpha, Bravo and Charlie. Move 300 metres west, create smoke and wait for engineers to clear scattered mines
.”

“Turn it up,” ordered Trusov.

The crackle of the speaker became louder, the sense of panic identical. Voices could be heard calling for help; only the call signs were different.

“
Six-One, Six-One-One. Under heavy artillery fire. Two units lost. 1,000 metres east Escherde.”

“Six-One-One, expect mines at less than 1,000 metres east of Escherde. Get your rollers forwards
.”

“
Six-One, Six-One-Four. First company at outskirts Escherde, two units lost. Second company sweeping north-east.”

“Six-One-One, situation? Over
.”

“
Six-One. Two units down, one unit damaged track. Mine clear in operation. Estimate through scatter mines in two minutes. Over.”

“Understood. Urgent you get west of Escherde.”

“Roger.
”

“Momentum is being maintained, sir.”

Trusov didn’t answer Antakov. He was trying to get an impression of the battlefield in his mind. His eyes flickered over the map as more Soviet aircraft roared low overhead. Yes, they had taken casualties from the artillery strike, and they would lose more from the minefield and the scatter mines, but if they could keep pushing on. To get bogged down now, amongst the minefields, they would have no room to manoeuvre and would be at the mercy of any British armour, and if the NATO air force could get through, it would be a disaster.

“
Six-One, Six-One. Contact. Armour in south Escherde. One unit destroyed, one damaged.”

“Use your call sign, Six-One-One. Move south, skirt the village.”

“Six-One, this is Six-One-Four. First company pushing through Emmerke. Second company entering from the north. Third company bypassing, approaching western edge
.”

“
Delta-Four-Alpha. Contact. One thousand metres. One, Tango-Eight-Zero-mine-roller, two, Tango-Eight-Zero, through minefield. Permission to fire. Over
.”

“Four-Bravo, Four-Charlie. Weapons free.”

“
Roger
.”

“
Roger
.”

Chapter 17

0530 7 JU
LY 1984. 34
TH AIRBORNE ASSAULT BRIGADE. SOUTH OF GRONAU, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLACK EFFECT −1 DAY.

Lieutenant Colonel Ivakin tapped his watch, then held up five fingers to the pilot of the Mi-8 Hip helicopter, the noise making it impossible to have a conversation, the internal comms system working intermittently. The pilot nodded, indicating that he agreed that they were five minutes away from their landing zone. He and his battalion were finally going to get to grips with the NATO soldiers who always thought themselves superior to the Soviet conscript army. Here was an opportunity for his battalion to demonstrate their skills and show the British just how wrong they were. Thirty-seven Mi-Hook helicopters were strung out in a line, some carrying BMD mechanised infantry combat vehicles, others carrying his troops. High above, Soviet Interceptors were keeping the skies clear of enemy fighters and bombers, and, ahead and on their flanks, armed Mi-8 Hips and Hind attack helicopters were smothering the enemy in a blanket of fire. The companies that had parachuted in earlier had secured the landing sites, encountering very little opposition.

A second battalion was also on its way and, between the two of them, they would swamp the British defenders around Gronau, either forcing their way to the bridge and securing it, or cutting off any retreating troops if the enemy were able to destroy the bridge. The remaining two battalions would also be in the air; a mix of AN-12 Cubs, IL-76 Candids and AN-12 Cocks were at this very minute dropping the Soviet paratroopers in a ring around Benstort. Two battalions cutting off Gronau, and two battalions securing the gap between Salzhemmendorf and Osterwald. The British didn’t have a chance. The two company-sized units had already reported back that the landing zones they had been sent to capture and secure were in their hands. For an hour, the guns from two divisions, along with 3rd Shock Army level artillery, had been pounding any location they believed to contain a defending unit.

The Colonel had not yet seen the results, but had witnessed the streaks of the rockets and missiles overhead, and the horizon had been lit up as if a theatre show was in progress. Once he and his men were in position, the rest of their force would be brought in, consisting of artillery, a battalion of D-30s, an anti-tank battery with its 85mm ASU-85s and anti-aircraft support. He was certain they would need it all if they were going to achieve their objectives.

Ping.

A bullet ricocheted off the airframe and the Colonel and the co-pilot looked at each other. The co-pilot looked fearful, but the pilot appeared calm, concentrating on the task at hand, the control stick vibrating in his hands, his feet working the peddles as he banked the helicopter to the right. They had flown south of Gronau, keeping low as the flight passed between Gronau and Banteln, the pilot showing two fingers, indicating they were two-minutes out. A Hind-D raced past them, its rocket pods launching four projectiles at a suspected enemy position, its guns suppressing an infantry machine-gun post, protecting the armada that was rapidly approaching. Ivakin watched as sparks flew off the airframe of the Hind. Not all the enemy units were seeking cover. His men were going to be in for a fight when they landed. The pilot indicated one minute and the Colonel warned his men in the back. The craft jolted as another Hip, flying alongside and slightly back from them, erupted in an explosion. A Blowpipe missile, spoilt for choice there were so many targets, missed the helicopter it was meant to target, striking the engines of a second Hip that just happened to get in the way. The pilot fought with the controls as his aircraft dropped 100 metres, the majority of the passengers, although shaken and some injured, survived.

The Hip Ivakin was in suddenly juddered as the pilot brought the front end up, pulling back on the controls to bring the Hip to a hover, the tail boom close to the ground, before leveling off and touching down, almost gently.
He’s a good pilot
, thought Ivakin, intending to mention it to his commander when this was over. His men started to leap out, and he tapped his hand on each shoulder as he counted his soldiers out of the aircraft. Jumping down himself, he looked back, the downdraught causing him to squint as he indicated to the pilot that all his men were out.

Two rows of bullet holes stitched along the canopy. The mangled faces of the pilot and co-pilot were visible as an Infantry GPMG and a Chieftain’s coaxial machine gun reminded the Soviet airborne forces that the British were far from beaten and they were very much in for a fight.

0600 7 JULY 1984. COMBAT TEAM ALPHA/ROYAL GREEN JACKETS BATTLEGROUP. NORTH-WEST OF OSTERWALD, WEST GERMANY.

THE BLACK EFFECT −22 HOURS.

Lieutenant Dean Russell sheltered behind his FV432 armoured personnel carrier, the thumps and sounds of combat in the distance a constant reminder that they were very close to the front line. No artillery ordnance had landed in their vicinity, and apart from keeping close to their armoured vehicles just in case they needed to change location, they were using it as an opportunity to get some hot food and a little rest. Although Combat Team Alpha had been hit hard, and was destined to move behind 2nd Infantry Division, which was slowly moving into position behind the two armoured divisions that were currently taking the brunt of the Soviet assault, the 1 BR Corps Commander had made the decision to hold back a small element of 4th Armoured Division. The Corps Commander, General Cutler, wished he had more men, more tanks, more units, but he didn’t. He had to make do with what he had. Although more of 4th Armoured Division had survived than expected, some seventy per cent, they were battle-weary and their armour and equipment needed maintenance, refuelling and rearming. But he had made the decision to keep the Royal Green Jackets Battlegroup in the immediate theatre. At sometime in the future, he would thank all that was holy that he had made that decision: keeping a tired, battered unit in reserve. Combat Team Alpha had gone through a major thirty-minute Soviet artillery and missile bombardment in the early stages of the war and had suffered crippling casualties. Following on from that, there was an assault by Soviet T-80 tanks and the dreaded Hind-D attack helicopters. It had ended in a defeat for the British. Although it could be argued that they hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight, they had fulfilled their intended mission: held up the enemy for short period of time.

Dean was angry. Some of his men had been killed, while some had been maimed so badly they probably wished they were dead. He heard the growl of an engine approaching from the village of Osterwald.

“Stand to, stand to,” he bellowed.

He brought up his SLR, and the rest of his platoon dropped their mess tins and prepared to defend themselves. But all was well. A Ferret scout car appeared from around the corner, one of the occupants the combat team commander, Major Philips. A cloud of dust rolled forward as the four-wheeled scout car came to a halt and the Major leapt down from the Ferret and called Lieutenant Russell over. Dean was there in seconds. He saluted, and Major Phillips flicked him a quick response. “Problem with your 432, sir?”

“No, Dean, this was just quicker. Anyway, I have a task for you.”

The Major pulled a map out from the inside of his combat jacket. None of the combat team were currently donned in NBC suits as they were originally being pulled well back to the rear. He placed the map on the front of the scout car, the driver sitting at the front-centre of the small, unarmed reconnaissance vehicle, trying to look anywhere but at the two officers.

“We’ve got big problems heading our way.”

“But I thought we were being pulled out of the line, sir?”

“I’m sorry, Dean, but the entire Battlegroup is being brought back into operation. Here,” he pointed to the map. “A Soviet parachute unit has just landed here and one here,” he informed Russell, pointing to a location south of the village of Oldendorf, only four kilometres to the south-east of their current location. “And one here south-east of Esbeck.”

“What strength, sir?”

“We’re not sure, but first estimates say company strength.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, sir. They can soon be isolated, surely.”

“I wish it were that easy.”

For the first time, Dean saw tiredness in his company commander’s eyes. He suddenly looked older. Dean felt goose bumps prickle down his back. His men were going to be asked to fight again.

“At least one battalion strength unit is in the process of parachuting in to join the company south of Esbeck, and we anticipate one will join the unit already south of Oldendorf.”

“Christ, sir, we can’t take on a battalion, not the state we’re in.”

The Major looked at his Lieutenant, but said nothing.

“Sorry, sir, just tired.”

“We’re all tired, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.”

“Right, there’s more. A heliborne landing is in progress here, just north-west of Gronau, and Sov helicopters are blasting everything in their path to the south-west. So, we expect another landing there.”

“They’re after the bridge—”

“Yes, Dean, and it looks like they’re throwing a full Air Assault Brigade at us.”

“Do we have a full brigade, sir?”

“No, the rest of 11th Brigade are pulling back towards the River Weser, our next stop line.”

A rustle of a uniform behind them turned out to be Sergeant Rose.

“Good to see you, Sergeant Rose.”

Sergeant Rose saluted. “Likewise, sir. We were starting to feel a bit isolated up here.”

“You’ll be joined by the rest of the unit shortly. Got your map?”

“Sir.” Rose pulled out his map and laid it on the front next to his platoon commander’s.

“I’ll need to be quick. We effectively have a heliborne assault here and here. East of Eime, south-west of Elze, and east of Sehlde. The first wave is down, and we believe it to be the elements of two battalions. One targeting north-west of Gronau, the other the south-west.”

“This side of the river, sir?” Sergeant Rose asked.

“Yes. We expect a second wave as soon as their heli-force can do a turnaround. 22nd Brigade have two combat teams centred on Elze and Banteln, and a reserve combat team in the area of Eime.”

“They should already be hitting the enemy from all sides then, sir,” suggested Dean.

“Yes, they seem to have responded quickly. The issue is they are cutting off elements of Combat Team Bravo on the other side of the river. Combat Teams Alpha and Delta have been hitting the enemy on the other side of the river as they’ve tried to flank left and right around Gronau. They have had to reduce this to deal with the more immediate threat.”

“Can’t they pull them back?”

“Blow the bridge, sir?” added Rose.

“If they pull them back, the enemy will have Gronau and will be threatening the bridge. We may well have to blow it up and leave our men behind, but at the moment Brigadier Stewart is holding firm. His intention is to push Combat Team Charlie straight down the middle, splitting the enemy forces on the ground and actually reinforcing Bravo. Elements of Bravo this side of the river will then cross to support the troops on the eastern bank.”

“Who’s defending Gronau itself then, sir?”

“Elements of Bravo and a local Bundeswehr unit, a company of about 100 men, maybe more. They’ll put up a fight, but can’t be expected to hold out for long.”

“The RAF?”

“They’re in a pitched battle with the Soviet air force at the moment. This area is clearly getting a great deal of attention, Sergeant. Both sides are throwing aircraft into the battle, and until that resolves itself, we can’t expect too much help.”

“What about us then, sir?” questioned Rose.

“The Soviet airborne west of Benstort and east of Benstort clearly have a purpose. We think it is to hold the gap open between the high ground of Thuster to the south and Osterwald to the north. We expect the westernmost unit, probably in battalion strength when it gets here, to send a large force towards Coppenbrugge, extending their coverage of the gap.”

Dean tapped the map in three places. “Push through Gronau, pass around Benstort, and up through Coppenbrugge.”

“Exactly. Your task, Dean, and I’m giving you three-platoon in addition, is to hold Marienau. It straddles the road here. Keep that valley open, but watch out as they will no doubt try to flank you.”

“Understood, sir.”

“What’s left of three-platoon, sir? Like us, they’re pretty beat up,” Rose enquired.

“I have amalgamated their three surviving sections into two. You can use their third 432 for the Milan firing posts, and you have your mortar team.”

“Milan won’t be much use, sir.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean. The heliborne assaults are landing BMDs, and at least one ASU-85 has been seen with the southern parachute force. I will take two-platoon and Company HQ south-east, towards Hemmendorf. The rest of the Battlegroup will be deploying here at Mehle. Combat Team Charlie and Combat Team Delta will move towards Benstort, and Combat Team Bravo will go south, then swing north-east through Salzhemmendorf.”

“Christ, we’ll be all over the place. Sorry, sir,” apologised Rose.

“I wish I could disagree with you, Sarn’t Rose, but you’re right. But, we have to contain them. If this is a full brigade assault, then we’ll have over 2,000 heavily armed troops right in our backyard. We have to contain them.”

They looked up and to the south as the drone of low-flying aircraft broke into their briefing, all suddenly aware of the chatter of small-arms fire in the distance. Before anyone could comment, the sound of the aircraft, no doubt bringing in more Soviet paratroopers, was blocked out by the roar of 432 engines as the remnants of three-platoon ground their way along the forest track just north-west of Osterwald.

“Your reinforcements, Dean. Both Lieutenant Ward and Sergeant Holland have been killed, so you two are the senior. Congratulations on your promotion, Colour Sergeant Rose.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” responded a flustered Colour Sergeant Rose. “Although, I wish the circumstances were different.”