The sound of eight Fv-432s in low gear reverberated through the lines, working their way up the reverse slope to just shy of the crest, taking advantage of the tree clearance undertaken by the oppositions artillery which had given them another base plate position. On reaching the desired position the engine sounds quietened and the mortar crews ‘Number Two’s, with each weapons aiming post in hand, left the APCs as the two semi-circular hatches in the roofs of the vehicles were opened to reveal the medium mortars.
The business of laying-on, i.e., the placing of the individual aiming posts in such a fashion as to overlap exactly the vertical line on the mortars sight, was conducted between the Number One’s and Number Two’s. For a novice crew the laying-on could take minutes, but for the well-practiced it was but a matter of seconds.
“In Two!” had been shouted eight times in less than thirty seconds and the Number Two’s were back with the vehicles. The mortars were ready for business.
The Hussars commander heard the distinctive ‘ploop’ of 81mm mortar rounds leaving the barrels, and they were leaving very rapidly indeed. Eighty mortar rounds were in the air before the first one had landed, and the Number Two’s had retrieved the aiming posts at the run, clambering back into the vehicles, which were already moving off.
Peering through his binoculars at the oncoming Czech battalion, Major Venables was surprised to see not the geysers of earth and smoke that HE rounds would have caused, but thick white smoke. The ground immediately before the sunken lane took on the aspect of a dense fog bank, which drifted with the breeze towards the Czech formation, blotting out the lane and all visible clues as to its location. The drivers of the Czech armoured vehicles slowed down, not wanting to encounter the sunken lane whilst driving at full tilt. They knew that the obstacle was somewhere close by, but hitting it at forty miles per hour was courting serious if not fatal consequences.
The front rank slowed and almost instantly the combat spacing between vehicles was lost, the ranks of vehicles bunching up as result of the unannounced change of pace.
Venables looked up in response to a mournful droning overhead, and then having identified the sound he laughed aloud and thumped the rim of his hatch in appreciation of the cooperation between the mortars and the heavy artillery. “Beautiful, just beautiful.”
Looking back in the direction of the approaching armour he raised once again the binocular’s to his eyes, but could make out little.
Improved munitions were mixed in with the conventional shells, and these scattered Skeet above the clustered ranks of Czech armour. The thin top armour of fighting vehicles struck by the Skeet’s were pierced and whatever lay beneath suffered accordingly. For the lucky ones this was an engine getting trashed, but for the unlucky ones their last moments were a burning purgatory from which only the sympathetic detonation of onboard ammunition brought a welcome release.
The Czech battalion commander, from his position in the rearmost rank of the formation, had no option but to urge his men to press on. The NATO artillery quite obviously had their range so to loiter was to invite total disaster. The leading vehicles pressed on, driving faster than they would have chosen to if given the choice and this resulted in a number of motorway style pile-ups. Some vehicles encountered the lane unexpectedly, plunged down into the defile at 30mph or faster, and came to a crashing halt against the far side, snapping axles and shearing drive sprockets. For the occupants of such vehicles never fitted with such niceties as safety harnesses, the result was in many cases fractured skulls and broken bones. Vehicles following behind these found the way ahead blocked and were prevented from backing up and finding another way around by vehicles coming up behind.
A BTR-70s driver saw the hedgerow that bordered the lane at the last moment, and managed to brake to a halt, but before he could proceed to negotiate the steep bank at an appropriate speed his vehicle was rammed from behind by a T-72. Shunted forward with such momentum the APC pitched down the bank where it struck the unyielding tarmac, stood on its nose briefly before flopping onto its back. Only cutting torches could have opened the thoroughly mangled rear troop door, and the roof hatches were useless as a means of escape, so it was a blessing that all the occupants had been rendered unconscious.
A flight of German Alpha Jets took advantage of the confusion to stage a hit and run attack, dropping canisters of napalm along that section of the lane, which further blocked the lane and immolated those trapped within wrecked vehicles.
It was a moment that should have been capitalised on by either launching a counter attack, or by piling on the artillery fire, but they lacked the strength to capitalize on such a thrust, and only a second salvo arrived from the guns.
As the smoke screen began to dissipate Venables cursed the lack of available artillery but he knew that the Royal Artillery AS-90s were relocating because the Red Army’s battlefield radar now knew within ten feet where those guns were.
In the fields beyond the avenue of trees he could see burning vehicles and other perfectly serviceable tanks and APCs milling about as a safe passage across the lane was sought. He could only guess at what was taking place in the lane and how many vehicles had come to grief there from the smoke and flames that were climbing skyward.
Calling up the CP he found himself talking to Pat Reed in person, and explained exactly how vulnerable the enemy force now was, but the CO had a bird’s eye view thanks to Phoenix and was as equally as frustrated as the Hussar.
“Hello Tango One Nine, this is India Nine, we are trying for more air assets but we only got those Alpha’s because I promised them full and unbridled use of Mrs India Nine whenever they were next in town…over.”
The levity of the CO’s words could not disguise the underlying frustration he could hear in the voice, and he looked again at the armour stranded beyond the lane before replying resignedly.
“Tango One Nine roger, out.”
He glowered into the binoculars as he saw the tracks and underside of a tank seemingly grow out of the lane as it climbed the steep bank, then the machine tipped over, crushing the hedgerow beneath it and accelerating into the field on this side of the obstacle, the T-90s long barrel traversing from side to side as it sought targets. The enemy had found one gap in the fire and wreckage and where there was one there was sure to be more.
His view was again obscured by smoke but this time the rounds were coming from the enemy, providing cover whilst they organised themselves.
In the absence of artillery, air strikes, or an armoured force of sufficient strength to sally forth and hit the enemy whilst it was off balance, another troop of tanks to support 4 Company was what was required. He had just the three troops worth of tanks and his own vehicle, there were no reserves and 2 Troops position was between 1 and 2 Company in accordance with Pat Reeds desire to have a strong second line, should the forward companies be rapidly overwhelmed. 3 Troop could not be moved left as they were crucial to the flank of the battalion’s defence, which really said it all in regard to their circumstances. No matter how well they did now, they did not have the numbers to win.
Major Venables spat over the side of his turret as if to be rid of the taste of lost opportunities before ordering the driver to back them up and find an empty position nearer to 4 Company where they could lend a helping hand.
Whereas Pat Reed and Mark Venables were feeling merely frustrated, the commander of the 23rd was positively apoplexic with rage. His superior, the division’s Romanian commander had treated him to an ear-blistering rebuke over the radio for his lack of foresight and planning, even before his first battalions attack had arrived. The divisional commander obviously expected it to fail so he had ordered the 23rd MRRs commander to prepare and launch a further attack using the rest of his regiment, or answer for the consequences.