It was a textbook perfect attack and the first HARM’s began exploding AAA vehicles even as they began to pivot to face the new threat. The effect was the one hoped for, no one ‘predicted’ results or actions anymore, the pre-war doctrines and assumptions had been found naïve and wanting. As had been hoped though, the majority of the anti-aircraft artillery assets radars were silent five seconds later as two pairs of Jaguars popped up over a rise to the north west and over-flew the waiting armour of 23rd Czech MRR, releasing cluster bomb units as they did so. Seven seconds later a further four Jaguars came in from west, but they were less fortunate, the enemy were now reacting to the presence of aircraft overhead and one Jaguar fell to a sustained burst of 23mm fire whilst an SA-9 found the number four aircraft before it could release its load, exploding it in a fireball from which flaming debris fell to litter the German countryside. The remaining pair ejected chaff and flares as they egressed to the south but a refuelled, rearmed, and angry Mig-31 CAP arrived hurriedly back on station and pounced, taking out both RAF aircraft with missile shots before NATO’s own combat air patrol could intervene.
23rd MRRs commander stood in the turret of his T-80 and stared off in the direction of his units FUP. There were trees between the forming up point and his present position but he had no trouble knowing where to look, the black oily smoke rising above the treetops indicated where fourteen of his armoured fighting vehicles were stopped and burning.
He felt a tap on the leg and looked down into the vehicle, into the upturned face of his radio operator.
“Yes?”
“The division commander is offering fixed wing cover for the attack, sir.”
He gave it some consideration before dismissing the idea. It would mean severely restricting his anti-aircraft assets rules of engagement, and from past experience he believed that they would see nothing of this alleged air cover until after NATO air strikes had come and gone, unchallenged by their own air force and by the his own AAA that had been ordered to hold fire. The idea of using air power for precision strikes against hardpoint’s was extremely attractive — on paper — but this was the real thing, not a classroom exercise.
“My thanks, but no thanks.” Instead of disappearing, the radio operators face remained looking up at him.
“Is there something else?”
“Yes sir, First battalion’s commander is asking for a delay, to deal with the wounded and he is also asking for a company to be attached from Third battalion to make up for what First just lost?”
From beyond the trees the sound of ammunition cooking off could be heard and reinforced the urgency of the moment, the attack could bog down before it even began. He shook his head emphatically.
“No, he goes right now, right this instant, and with what he has…tell the companies in the lane to begin their attack, and tell the mortars to start laying smoke.”
The face disappeared and he heard his orders being relayed before the face reappeared and he received a thumbs up, confirming acknowledgement by the sub units.
He checked the switch on his own communications panel was set to intercom before depressing the microphones pressel switch.
“Driver…take us forward, just short of where that farm was.”
The sound of the T-80s engine raised by several octaves and then it lurched forward, picking up speed as it headed over the battered countryside in the direction indicated. The regimental commander’s entourage, a trio of BTR-80 APCs, a ZSU-23-4 and another two T-80 battle tanks accompanied it, the vehicle commanders keeping a weather eye on the skies for NATO strike aircraft.
Back at the 1CG CP the artillery rep had ordered the Phoenix away prior to the Tornado’s ‘Wild Weasel’ sorties and the Jaguar strikes, but now it was arriving back above the armour of 23rd MRRs first battalion. Pat Reed saw that the lead companies were now on the move, and then a signaller informed him that 3 Company were reporting smoke was being dropped to their front.
Major Venables and his mixed squadron of Challenger II’s and elderly Chieftain’s had endured the Soviet bombardment without loss, but not without mishap. On the reverse slopes the tanks sat in holes dug against the side of the hill and therefore safe from artillery pieces firing at maximum elevation, but as ever the Soviet mortars concentrated on the areas the guns could not hit. One of his Challenger’s had been buried by a landslide caused by the massive 240mm mortar rounds and smaller, yet more numerous 120mm fired from the 2S9 Anona self-propelled heavy mortar, and RE Sapper’s were working frantically alongside REME recovery troops to dig out the tank and its crew.
All but two of his squadron’s crewmen had seen action, even though the last time any of his call sign’s had fired a main tank gun in anger had been at Magdeburg. Between repulsing the assault river crossing there and digging in here on Vormundberg it had been an infantry show, but Venables had ensured that his crews carried out dry training at every opportunity, to the disgust of those Hussars who had been on the Wesernitz and therefore thought of themselves as ‘old sweats’ and above such mundane activities. Despite such elitist attitudes he was quietly rather proud of his small command and the way they were meshed together as a team. He was confident they would do the business today, and if the Soviet’s achieved a breakthrough it would not be due to any shortcomings from his men. He did have concerns regarding equipment, particularly with the Chieftains and especially with Tango One Two Charlie, a Mk 10 with an unreliable engine pack and a gearbox that would have been changed had a spare been found in time. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice on the battalion net.
“Hello all stations address group Kilo, this is India Zero, Cryptic Tuesday, over.”
The Hussar squadron was half way down the list in order of priority and so Venables employed the time on the squadron net.
“Hello all stations this is One Nine, move now, I say again, move now, over.”
All three troop commanders answered and Venables own Challenger got underway, heading for its own forward fighting position as he acknowledged the CP on the battalion net. “Tango One Nine, Cryptic Tuesday, over.”
The word was passed down the line, the enemy is coming and anything to your front is now ‘in play’.
The American Paratroopers and British Guardsmen waited for the enemy armour with a feeling in their stomachs that their forefathers had probably felt too, when the order in those bygone days had been, ‘Prepare to receive cavalry!’
The small group of armoured vehicles stopped short of the skyline and the 23rd MRRs regimental commander climbed from the turret to the engine deck of his T-80, before making his way forward and then with a hand on the main gun for balance he lowered himself carefully down the front glacis plate to the ground, not wishing to turn an ankle on the shattered stone and brickwork that lay underfoot. Two of the BTRs carried his small battle staff but the third carried infantry, and these had debussed before their commander had left the turret of his tank, his aide, a signaller, the intelligence, air and artillery reps hurrying to join him whilst the infantrymen had deployed in all round defence, providing local security.
The last few feet to the crest were accomplished on hands and knees to avoid being silhouetted on the skyline, and the officers took up position to the left of their commander, lying in a line of diminishing rank or seniority with binoculars being trained on the sunken lane.
Several minutes had passed since the regimental commander had ordered the two companies in the lane, one tank and one APC, to begin their attack and yet despite a thick smokescreen having been laid there was as yet no movement from that quarter. An angry demand for compliance was snapped at the signaller, burdened down with a heavy manpack radio but whom conveyed the order and then likewise conveyed the senior company commanders apology, a mortar round had scored a direct hit on the thin top armour of an elderly BTR-60PB, the blazing vehicle was clearly visible to the staff officers, it had been blocking the narrow roadway to the vehicles following behind, however the combined efforts of two T-90s had muscled it over onto its side and allowed vehicles to brave the exploding ammunition for its heavy, 14.5mm turret mounted machine gun as they squeezed past. The 81mm rounds being dropped by the Guards and 82nd mortar lines were harassing the armour in the lane rather than doing any real damage, they were area, rather than precision, weapons and the knocked out eight-wheeler had been a fluke.