A palm sized, woven coat-of-arms, did indeed hang from the zip of the American’s smock, its presence on the paratrooper was not necessary, even given his unique position, but Arnie wore it in memory of the big Guardsman, who even whilst mortally wounded had smothered a hand grenade with his body. The younger Reed knew little of events in his father’s unit, and let it go without comment.
Half an hour later found them inside Warriors from 1CG, and heading through abandoned NATO positions as fast as they could travel, without throwing a track.
Above them and to the northwest, the RAF Tornadoes and USAF F-16s of the wild weasel sortie turned onto their approach routes to the town, to clear away the danger to the lumbering C-130s and the large devices they carried. There were four of the Hercules transports, flying in a wide spread diamond formation from RAF Lyneham in Wiltshire. Ideally the weapons would have been dropped simultaneously on all the towns held by the Russian airborne troops, but suitable airframes were in ever shortening supply, and these four would reload several times before the mission was complete.
Smoke from fresh fires burnt on the ground far below the Hercules as they rolled in on their IPs, but being high above the cloud ceiling they could see nothing of this. They could not know for certain if the wild weasel had done its job effectively, until the time came to enter enemy paratroops air defence zone but no threat warnings sounded when this line was crossed.
At the release points, drogue chutes pulled the heavy, fuel air weapons clear of the aircraft before static lines deployed the main chutes, and the C-130s banked for home.
The Warriors had still been in the outskirts of the town when fast jets tore past overhead, and despite the bright orange identification panels on the APCs roofs, their occupants cringed in expectation of a ‘friendly fire’ hit.
Accidents happen in war, but they seem to happen most frequently to armoured vehicles.
The vehicles were clear of the last buildings when charges vaporised the contents of the weapons, and then ignited them in four colossal detonations five hundred feet above the ground.
The effects bore striking similarities to that of a detonating nuclear weapon, though not as far ranging and the flash dazzled rather than blinded.
The weapons detonated roughly over the enemy forward positions, on the north, east, south and western perimeters, immolating anything exposed and sending blast waves outwards. Those not burned alive suffered asphyxia, as all available oxygen was consumed by the fireballs. The centre of the town was spared the worst of the super-heated air, but the centre was where all four blasts met.
At his headquarters in Braunschweig, Colonel General Alontov was informed that communications had been lost with the headquarters of the 2nd Guards Shock Army’s airborne division, in Eisleben. His signallers had already been trying for several hours to re-establish communications with their own Helmstedt brigade when this occurred, and Alontov was no great believer in coincidence. There had been numerous reports of huge explosions heard in the distance; by troops in the east of the town at the time communications had ceased with Helmstedt.
They had been experiencing little difficulty holding their own perimeter against NATO, the local forces they faced were reservist units as NATOs main combat power was tied up along the Elbe and Saale, trying to contain the foot holds that the Red Army had established.
Alontov was well aware that a single British brigade was all that was tasked with destroying the two airborne divisions, in their rear. Even the most average second lieutenant knew that the smallest formation with any chance at completing that task, should have been an entire Army Corps, a mere brigade was wholly inadequate. So Alontov knew all along that NATO would have to try something else in addition, or else lose Europe and its armies there.
Staring once last time at the map pinned to the cellar wall of his CP, he came to a decision, and turned to his assembled staff.
“Gentlemen, we are leaving.”
The simple statement registered as unease on several faces of the assembled staff.
After a moment of silence, one of his regimental commanders spoke.
“With respect General, our orders to hold until relieved were quite specific?”
Serge looked carefully at all of them before replying.
“We jumped into Germany… .correction; we took off with six full strength brigades of men and equipment. Attrition started the moment we crossed into NATO territory. The brigade that went to Belgium was doomed from the outset, and their mission was a failure as all intelligence suggests that SACEUR survived. Our own brigade at Helmstedt, and the 2nd’s brigade in Eisleben, plus their headquarters, are gone… .somehow NATO destroyed them, although I do not believe nuclear weapons were responsible, it was something equally catastrophic. That leaves only us and the 2nd’s two regiments at Bernburg.” He paused for effect before asking the question. “Would one of you like to toss a coin and guess who is next on NATO’s list?” There was no reply from any of the assembled group so Serge aimed the next question at his regimental commanders.
“Has there been any enemy activity around the perimeter?” There had been no contact with the enemy since dawn, no harassing fire, no sniping, and no patrol activity. It was a first.
“Going west, toward the channel ports would be a futile gesture, we would never make it on foot without close air support on tap, and however, by heading east we can be a credible force that NATO will need to deal with. I can see no practical value in a phased withdrawal Gentlemen, as I am willing to bet good money that the opposition has lit the blue touch paper and has withdrawn to a safe distance as it were… so let’s not waste time destroying non portable equipment and stores in place, are friends will do that for us. Any vehicles are for the carrying of ammunition, rations and the wounded until such time as we regain friendly lines… now, let us carry out what will probably be the fastest O Group in military history.”
Another O Group was taking place at the same time but further east. Nikoli Bordenko and his small force of paratroops had been circling Helmstedt looking for a blind spot in which to slip through NATO lines and into the town under siege to join their brothers in arms within. They had been in a hide position near the crest of a wooded hill, sleeping and observing, when the town had been levelled. Nikoli had decided to head west and join with Alontov’s brigade in Braunschweig. There was to be no move before 2100hrs.
In addition to Nikoli’s men, several other parties of soviet troops, in similar situations, were coming to decisions as to whether to go east or west at that time.
Major Richard Dewar had earned his parachute wings at No. 1 Parachute Training School, RAF Brize Norton many years before, as had all of his Marines. However, wearing the wings was not an endorsement that the wearer liked launching himself into oblivion.
Dewar hated parachuting, and considered enthusiasts of sports parachuting to be either certifiable, or Californian, which was the same thing in all probability. To him it was a necessary evil, a means of arriving at B having left A by a more sensible mode of transport. He hated the feeling of having nothing under his feet but fresh air, and the sensation of falling in the seconds before his canopy deployed always made him kick involuntarily, as his brain told his legs to find something solid to stand on.
Tonight’s jump had been no better, it had been pitched dark as he’d left the B-2 bomber above the small valley chosen as the DZ. Twelve seconds later he was on the ground in mainland China, trying to catch his breath in the bitterly cold air, and gain his feet at the same time. He then had to shuffle downwind through powdery snow to overtake the canopy that the wind was trying to refill, and pulling on the shrouds he collapsed it once and for all.