“Crystal Palace this is Caballero Zero One, their CAP ran away, we can take them.”
Upon her screen the symbols for ‘SAMs’ have appeared; the software classified all fourteen as SA-10s.
“It’s an ambush Caballero; the ‘tanker’ is guiding multiple SAMs!”
Her words were unnecessary; she saw the two flights split as they sought to break the radar locks on them.
To the northeast the ‘fleeing’ SU-27s reversed their course, hurrying back to their charges.
Ann-Marie watching helplessly as on her screen a pair of missile symbols closed with, and then merged with one of the Spanish Falcon’s, the symbols disappeared from her screen. She darted a glance at her subordinate, the controller who had agreed to the Spanish pilots request, and despite the impassive features she could see from his eyes how desperately he wished he could turn back time.
Only two of the Falcons made it back to the relative safety of friendly lines and the senior of the two requested a steer to a tanker, having used up so much fuel on afterburner. It was not the same voice from before.
Had she not already had the Greek F-16s heading that way she would have been forced to weaken the line defending 4 Corps, diverting dwindling assets to cover the ground troops in contact.
It had come to that point, where the loss of just a few flights of aircraft could mean disaster. The Soviet plan had not worked, the regiments heading for 4 Corps would still be intercepted, but not those bound for the front.
The stack at Dessau broke up, the various elements making for their targets and Ann-Marie called up the Greek F-16s, and explained that the Vormundberg CAP was gone and it was now up to them.
“Timothy, is there a problem?”
The Adjutant had been talking intently with Derek for several minutes, and the C.O’s words seemed to startle both men.
“Um, pardon?”
Pat hated it when officers of his seemed to be on a different page, but that had never before been the case with the young Captain.
“The MLRS request, is there a problem?”
The answer came from behind him though.
“Yes, sir.” He turned to face the newcomer.
“All MLRS are about to carry out deep strikes on divisions beyond this one we are currently in contact with. Reloading of all launchers will take up to three hours.”
All available anti-tank assets were tackling the Czech battalion moving on 4 Company and soon he was going to have to shift some of the Apache’s and Lynx in preparation of meeting the even larger threat JSTARS had detected.
Whilst Pat Reed was mulling over these problems his Adjutant thanked Derek. He didn’t know how or even when, he was going to have to break the news to the CO, but right this second was not the moment.
Pat came to a decision.
“Tim?”
His Adjutant sent the artilleryman back to his place before answering the CO.
“Yes, sir?”
“I want you to get onto the Argyll’s, pass them the message from JSTARS and ask them if their kind offer of earlier is still open, plus I want you to inform Mark Venables that I am moving his 2 Troop up in support of the right flank, and tell him why.”
On the reverse slope Major Venables Challenger had successfully traversed the side of the hill until it was directly behind the centre of 4 Company, but heavy shelling of that portion of the hilltop would have made their crossing back over a character building experience, but the shelling stopped abruptly.
Mark Venables acknowledged the adjutants transmission as he stood in the open turret with an AAC Gazelle guiding them across the hilltop, a door gunner leaning out to point the way around the jumbled trunks. The brow of the hill was in sight but they could not yet see the action taking place, but the sound of the defenders fire was rising and he was anxious to get into a position to support.
Gripping the GPMG mount for balance he braced himself as their course took them down into yet another shell crater, and up the other side. Cresting the edge of the crater he could now see their way was clear, and he waved his thanks to the Gazelle, which moved off.
“Steady there Abbot, one hundred metres until the ground drops off.”
He ducked at the sound of an explosion to the right, glancing towards the source, seeing the wreckage of the helicopter hitting the ground, and then there was a roar as the Gazelle’s killer passed overhead. It happened so fast that the Major had no time even to think of using the gimpy, and then he was ducking down again, inside the turret as spent cases rained down upon them.
Lt Col Chan had passed the air raid warning to the brigade headquarters for the troops at Vormundberg, but it had not been passed to the people that it mattered most to in time.
The Flanker that had destroyed the British Army Air Corps Gazelle splashed an Apache immediately after, both machines falling to its 30mm cannon. It turned its nose skywards and exploded, hit by all three of a Starstreaks projectile’s. The Royal Artillery crew that had launched the high velocity missile died, their Stormer vehicle disintegrating under the 3000mph impact of a Kh-31P missile, the anti-radiation version of the Krypton anti-ship missile.
Venables fired the ten L-8 smoke grenades in the dischargers either side of the main gun. He now knew why the artillery barrage had ceased and he didn’t know what good the smoke would do but they were very exposed on top of the hill, so it couldn’t hurt.
“Hello all stations this is Zero, Air Red, Air Red, Air Red!”
The radios carried the very late air raid warning, which elicited a variety of retorts amongst the listeners but only one gave voice to his on the net
“No shit?”
A rather officious voice took exception to the tiny lapse in radio discipline.
“Hello unknown station this is Zero, say again callsign, over?”
Despite, or perhaps even because of the situation, the reply drew laughter.
“I’m sarcastic…..” said ‘Unknown Station’. “Not stupid.”
The Challenger reached the brow of the hill and was beginning down the incline when a large hand plucked at it, lifting the rear of the main battle tank as if it were a toy.
Ann-Marie Chan’s assumption that the type was a SU-25 would have been successfully challenged on technical grounds by an anorak speaking in a nasal monotone. It was in fact an SU-39, formerly a two-seat version of the SU-25 but with that rear seat removed to enable mid-air refuelling.
The ‘Frogfoot’ had its trial by fire during the Afghan War where it proved itself to be a reliable, close air support machine capable of absorbing a lot of punishment. Of a somewhat similar appearance to an Alpha Jet, it was the Red Air Force’s best ground attack aircraft.
Colonel Ilya Morimsky had not had the best of days, flying once to Belgium and back at first light, once to France and back in the late morning, and each time with half the ordnance load his aircraft was capable of carrying. This mission however, held the promise of actually putting enough ordnance in the right place to almost justify the risks and the losses amongst his pilots.
The plan that had got them to the battlefield without loss had been his, thrashed out over a secure radio link to an army officer who had sounded almost intelligent. Leaving the same battlefield without loss was another thing entirely, however. Despite the best efforts of the aircraft designated to carry the AS-11 and Kh-31P anti-radiation missiles they were still seeing missile launches from the ground. Frighteningly fast Starstreak missiles blotted three of his aircraft from the sky on the first pass, and heat seeking Stingers that his AAA suppression aircraft could not detect had brought down another two of his regiment so far.