As he threw, the first figure emerged out of the smoke, silhouetted against flare pots glow and Colin snatched up his SLR, bringing it up into the aim and shot him through the chest. The grenade went off out of sight, and he heard screams from at least one injured man before hurriedly crawling backwards.
Coming through the trees with the second line of troops, Serge saw the first wave disappearing into the white smoke seventy metres ahead, and the firing from the flank paused while the gunners shifted aim, keeping the fire ahead of their own troops.
The first band of light appeared on the eastern horizon but down in the trees this was hardly noticeable. The rain was still falling from above as Serge urged his line forward and shouted at the third line to also speed up when firing from the contested position rose in ferocity. Splashing through puddles they were moving forwards at a jog to close on the position when cannon shells began exploding amongst the third line of the company. The man beside him hesitated, looking fearfully up towards the sound of the beating blades and Serge grabbed an arm, dragging him on to where the Apache would not be able to attack for fear of hitting friendly troops.
Mortar rounds, definitely unfriendly ones, landed in the vicinity of the second company, and the fire support from there faltered.
Serge ran across the firebreak and into the block NATO occupied, where he slowed to a walk, crouching over to present a smaller target and keeping tree trunks between himself and the sound of firing.
As he drew closer he saw the attack was stalled, so he took the next four men into the block to within grenade range. The flare pot had burnt itself out and Serge waited for more light, the risks of a grenade hitting a tree and bouncing back amongst friendly troops was too great.
A shermouli rose from the far end of the block to provide light for the defenders, and on a command from Serge they all threw together.
The shock effect brought a pause in the defenders fire, and Colin shouted for its resumption. The Guardsman on the gimpy to his right didn’t respond, Colin could see a leg unmoving on the other side of the tree he was lying beside, and he reached over to give it an angry yank. He found himself holding a severed limb which he gaped at for a second before getting a grip on himself, and none too soon either because the soviet troops were rising up from behind cover, still firing but with bayonets fixed.
He scrambled to his feet to meet the rush of the nearest soldier, steel rang on steel as he parried aside the others bayonet with the barrel of his own and following the movement through, driving the toe of the SLRs butt into the soldier’s throat before stepping back quickly into the on-guard stance. A large man with greying hair visible beneath the rim of his helmet rushed at him from the side and Colin pivoted but had to jump back a step when his parry was expertly avoided and the others sharp point narrowly missed impaling him. Colin dummied a jab with the intention of turning the blade in whichever direction his opponent dodged, but the illumination from the parachute flare died suddenly. Colin, unsighted, thrust to the left but the wind left his lungs with an audible “Oof” and he was driven backwards until he came up against the trunk of a tree.
He tried to move but something was holding him there, and of a sudden he felt light headed, dropping his own weapon and reaching down to find the cause he burned his hands on the hot barrel of his opponents.
He couldn’t feel any pain, and he was aware of a dark figure in front of him tugging at the weapon to free the blade that stuck through him and into the trunk behind.
Groping inside his smock, his hand finding what he sought and withdrawing it. His arm felt so very heavy, and the sky seemed to be getting darker rather than lighter. The dark form was working the blade from side to side now, and as it came free Colin fired twice before the 9mm Yarygin fell from fingers suddenly turned nerveless.
An hour before dawn an Argyll’s listening post had the men of that unit standing to, having reported movement toward the forests edge, 300m from the Scottish positions. Seven minutes later a trip flare went off at a track junction DF’d by the Jocks and it was engaged by a GPMG in the SF, sustained fire role. Mounted on a heavy tripod, all the DFs and FPFs, the Defensive Fires and Final Protective Fires, had been live registered, in other words they had previously put rounds onto the target when it had been identified as a possible approach route or forming up point. It was all part of the defensive preparation of a position.On that occasion the compass bearing and the angle of elevation of the barrel had been recorded for later use if called for. No further fire for effect was required once this was done; the gunner and his number two unlocked the mount allowing the gun to be pivoted about its axis onto the required settings. They then ensured the elevation bubble incorporated in the detachable C2 sight was level, and locked the tripod mount.
The gun that engaged the track junction wasn’t from the company that had it on its frontage, but its neighbour on the left. The GPMG produces an oval shaped beaten zone, the area where its rounds land, and by firing at an oblique angle to the target the beaten zone more effectively covered the area of the target.
Here in the Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders lines the Warriors laager was only about a mile from 1 Platoon, and Oz paid only passing attention to the streams of tracer arcing over to land a short way beyond the edge of the forest. He was about the only man left outside of a vehicle as the thunder storm drew closer and the electrical activity in the clouds had picked up the gauntlet thrown down by the Red Army artillery, giving a demonstration of how many decibels it was really possible to produce in two thousandths of a second.
There had been little in the way of small arms fire from the direction of his platoon since they had arrived here, only mortar fire at intervals and then finally the sound of a helicopter with rapid firing cannon out in the darkness.
He had his own radio on the platoon net and listened in silence to the sitrep’s that reported the growing list of casualties, impatient for the dawn to arrive and their departure from this place.
Major Popham had briefed the commanders of the three platoons plus Arnie, Oz and Ray on how he had decided they were going to do this. Rather than go in dismounted with the APCs following on, he was going to employ two parallel firebreaks that led almost directly to 1 Platoons position, and use the fighting vehicles speed and 30mm cannons to punch their way through any opposition. He would take the left hand firebreak, leading five of their own Warriors, plus two from 1 Platoon whilst the senior of the platoon commanders and the remaining six went down the right. On reaching an intersecting firebreak leading to the area occupied by the older trees and gorse they would across the logging track from 1 Platoon. From there they would have to play it by ear according to whatever CSM Probert could tell them about the situation at that time. It wasn’t a particularly intricate plan but they had to get straight who would do what should one of the mini flying columns, or both, get into difficulties. Conversing over the net with the battalion CP he had set up a fire plan with the mortars to provide support if and when it was needed, and these details of course were given out should he himself become a casualty.
After informing them that they had just thirty minutes to brief the men the platoon commanders went off to do their own O Groups which left Jim with little to do but wait, and he too was also getting tired of the inaction. A few desultory fire fights had broken out between the Argyll’s and the enemy in the tree line but he had a feeling the soviet airborne unit was finished as a serious fighting force. The same couldn’t be said of their comrades to the east though, and Pat Reed had confided that if the new US Corps didn’t arrive in the next day then SACEUR believed the reds would achieve their breakout across the rivers. Jim exited the Warrior and looked at the flashes reflected off the clouds to the east and shivered as rainwater found its way down his neck. Looking first at his watch and then toward the eastern horizon, he climbed back into his Warriors and took up the radio mike. “All stations Steel Falcon… prepare to move”