“He had a saying Mr President, what do you call a rifleman with a six figure checking account…a member of the National Guard. He was done with fighting wars for the benefit of all, when a noticeable percentage of the ‘all’ consistently failed to show up to do their bit. He thought the time had come for the poor working stiffs to stay at home in front of a TV and see how the rich boys handled it on their own for once. There were a few times over there where I thought he had a point.”
“You didn’t stop your son and daughter joining the service, though?”
“They had the chance to listen to their fathers and their grandfathers’ experiences and views. It’s a free country, and after listening they both entered following college. Matthew joined the Corps and Natalie the Navy.”
The President knew this, but he didn’t know where they both were.
“Matt’s the CO of VMA 223 aboard the Bonhomme Richard, and Natty is in Sydney too as TAO on the Orange County.”
“Bonhomme Richard was damaged in the first missile attack on Japan and was in dock at Sasebo when Japan surrendered wasn’t she?” asked the President. “And Orange County is providing air defence for both the Nimitz and Bonhomme Richard while the Aussies fix them up in Woolloomooloo Navy Yard?”
“Yessir, Bonhomme Richard is in the dry dock there and they aren’t going anywhere until the rest of the Nimitz group arrives.”
Only part of the Nimitz combat group had sailed with the carrier, the remainder were making their way with Essex or were stood out to sea as a precaution.
The President smiled, pleased with himself for remembering weeks old briefing items despite the masses of information that flowed in constantly for his eyes.
“Is your father still alive?”
“No sir, we lost him in ’92, a few months after my mother passed away, but I think he was proud of the way his grandchildren turned out.” Henry looked the President in the eye.
“My youngest is in the same draft as your son Mr President; they are both going to Parris Island.”
The President opened his folder and looked at the single sheet that lay within. He stayed that way for a moment before closing the folder and standing.
“I think we are done for now, General.”
CHAPTER 4
Colonel Leo Lužar’s 43rd Motor Rifle Regiment led the way for the rest of the reconstituted Rzeszów Motor Rifle Division. It wound its way past wrecked and burnt out fighting vehicles of all types. The twisted, fire warped and shattered remains of aircraft, the fighters, fighter-bombers and helicopters from both sides were evident in the green hues of the colonel’s night viewing device. Multi-millions of the people’s roubles and dollars reduced to scrap value where they had fallen.
The Rzeszów Motor Rifle Division had been rebuilt from the remains of two other divisions following its abortive attack on the British 3rd Mechanised Brigade.
Second Shock Army, to which they belonged, along with Tenth Tank Army had been worn down by constant attacks upon NATO since the start of the war. They had been reduced from seven divisions to just three, and were no longer capable of the shock they were supposed to deliver.
Lužar’s 43rd MRR had done better than the rest of the division by actually getting across the river. Only the Mitterland Kanal had separated them from the flesh and blood defenders, the US paratroopers and British guardsmen.
For the lack of bridging sections the attack had failed, and that was the only reason he had not been taken into the woods and shot in the back of the neck with the other regimental commanders. His defence of the efforts by the engineers to complete their task had saved another life, that of their commander.
This time they were doing it differently, a battalion of infantry had preceded them under the cover of heavy artillery pounding the far bank with H.E and smoke. Both they and the light assault boats they had dragged forward were concealed amongst the detritus of war, the armoured vehicles and ruined bridging equipment from the past two attempts to cross at this spot.
This was familiar terrain for Lužar, his previous attack had taken place three miles south of this point, and his job tonight was similar, that of securing the far bank whilst the first ribbon bridge was put across. The perimeter would be extended until the entire division had crossed and the Polish 9th Division had achieved a similar goal to the south of them. The Polish and the Hungarian Divisions were the door stoppers, they would re-orientate, facing along the NATO line to the north and south, keeping the breach open for Third and Sixth Shock Armies to pass through, followed by the rest of their own formations before rolling NATO up from the flank.
Lužar had deployed his regiment from road march five miles back, and it was now had the tactical spacing between his vehicles to minimise damage from all but an MLRS strike. He had been given assurances, once again, that NATO’s multi launch rocket systems had been neutralised. Half a mile from the river he gave the signal to the infantry who began their assault river crossing covered by a renewed artillery barrage.
It was too far away for him to see the men dragging the aluminium boats down the steeply sloping bank and seating the outboard motors. Feeling extremely exposed the infantrymen attempted to offer the smallest possible targets as they laboured, before entering the fragile craft and pushing off towards the opposite bank.
At the halfway point each and every man was wondering at point the defenders would unleash a withering storm of artillery followed by small arms.
Colonel Lužar briefly changed frequencies to the Poles command net. His Polish was limited, but good enough to note that there were no contact reports or calls for help being put out. Always assuming that they had jumped off on schedule, at the same time as the 43rd Motor Rifle Regiment then the opposition they were encountering was apparently light.
He turned back to his own net and as the river came into sight he heard the infantry battalion’s commander reporting that they had reached the far bank without loss. The man sounded anxious, as if he feared they had stepped into a trap that was going to close at any moment.
“Where the hell has NATO gone?”
“Colonel?”
Lužar had spoken aloud without realising, and he looked down at his sergeant.
“Nothing, let us just keep alert, okay?”
Two fierce air battles broke out over the skies of Europe, one over NATO’s rear areas and the other over the Red Army’s.
The Red Air Force’s build up in the skies over the Czech/German border was watched by Lt Col Ann-Marie Chan and her controllers orbiting above the German countryside west of Bielefeld. Lt Col Chan and her squadron had arrived at Geilenkirchen AFB whilst the wreckage was still being cleared. The bodies had all been removed but there had still been blood stains on the concrete of the dispersal they had been allotted and the dispersal’s former occupant had lain where the bulldozers had left it, tens of millions of dollars’ worth of scrap with its tail number still visible despite the fire scarring.
Tonight she counted the regiments of strike aircraft and their escorts and advised the AC to begin extending their orbit to the northwest in preparation for repositioning.
The Soviet’s knew that 4th Corps was on the move and their sorties today would be at the road network and not at the docks. There were more of them in the air this morning than had been over the past few days but she wasn’t fretting. Popping a mint into her mouth she then sat watching her screens and let her fingers softly drum on the surface of the workstation and murmured to herself.