With one crisis over the reports coming into 1CG’s CP became more upbeat, a REME recovery vehicle reported it was with Major Venables callsign and had replaced a track blown off by a near miss during the air raid. With the track replaced the REME and Venables Challenger had left their very exposed position on the hillside, moving to 4 Company’s CP before repairing the tanks communication’s, damaged in the same air attack. They had found a scene of feverish activity there, the CP’s roof had collapsed during the shelling but there had been no fatalities, the company headquarters staff had been released from their would-be tomb and were now frantically attempting to recover equipment, including communication’s gear, which was still buried.
12 Platoon regained its lost fighting holes and took eight prisoners, but they had lost five dead and four wounded during the entire action, losses that Lt Col Reed felt obliged to make good from 1 and 2 Company.
A resupply was carried out for the men in the trenches; it was not so simple for the Hussar’s though. Mark Venables and his crew traded vehicles with that of the damaged 1 Troop Challenger, transferring their ammunition to the Troop commanders vehicle before heading to the rear with 1 Troops Chieftain following. The Chieftain went for reloads and Mark Venables brought the damaged Challenger to the REME’s makeshift workshop.
The Greek F-16s splashed one SU-27 Flanker and three of the SU-39s with AMRAAMs for the loss of one of their own, but it was more likely that the Soviet strike withdrew due to the escorting Flankers fuel states rather than prudence.
This time the AWAC’s message was passed to all forces in good time and the Stinger and Starstreak crews stood down. The Jaguars of the Armee de l’Air realised almost as soon as they were above the contested hill that the Soviet AAA radars were still on standby, they had not been told their own aircraft were clear of the battlefield.
The first company of 23rd MRRs Third Battalion was cresting the rise to the left of the farms ruins when the Jaguars attacked with CBUs, they made a single pass down the length of the column, destroying three tanks and four APCs before disappearing to the southwest, but the AAA radars did not immediately light up, the operators hesitated still, allowing two flights of three A-10 Thunderbolts from the 103rd Fighter Wing to attack unchallenged. The seven barrelled 30mm cannons made a sound like tearing cloth as they fired, exploding eleven vehicles in a single pass before egressing to the west, scattering Gator mines from their underwing dispensers. One pilot found himself flying toward a half circle of stationary vehicles and a nearby cluster of men besides a ruined building. He had time for one long burst, walking it across a BTR-80, the T-80 beside it, and on across a pair of running figures.
23rd MRRs commander could feel the heat of the flames issuing from his burning command tank, even though the freezing muddy water had soaked his uniform. He heaved himself up onto his hands and knees in the puddle in which he had landed when he’d dived for cover, looked around for his 2 i/c and bawled angrily at him when he saw him listening earnestly on the signaller’s second headset some thirty metres away, seemingly oblivious to the violence of just moments before. His Intelligence officer and an infantryman from his escort had been reduced to hamburger by the A-10s strafing run, but the regimental commander gave them not a second thought except to angrily kick loose a piece of intestine that had landed on his boot.
Two attacks had been defeated, two attacks by a total of six companies had failed to take and hold so much as a single NATO foxhole, and now those NATO bastards had tried to kill him without one of his AAA units firing a shot. He turned and looked at the ZSU-23-4 that was charged with his protection, it too had failed to take action in time, and surely that could not go unpunished, could it?
Radars started to come back up, an SA-9 was launched and a ZSU hit an A-10 in the port engine but then the Thunderbolts were clear. The French Jaguars were still in the vicinity though, knowing that at some point the AAA would react and they killed both the SA-9 launcher and the ZSU, causing the radars to shut down once again.
The regimental commander had witnessed the turret of the ZSU attached to his headquarters pivot, quite obviously under guidance from its radar and then shut down again after the French HARMs began arriving. Quite obviously an example was called for here, and who better to demonstrate what befell those who failed in their duty then he himself. He undid the flap of the holster on his hip before stepping off purposefully towards the vehicle in question. The sound of running feet caused him to glance over his shoulder, but it was just his 2 i/c so he carried on walking.
“Who was that on the radio?”
Obediently his 2 i/c took up station a couple of paces behind him.
“It was the divisional commander, sir.”
23rd’s commander began to demand as to why he had not been informed but the sentence was not completed. The men nearby turned and gawped at the sound of distant thunder, and flashes reflected by the cloud to the east. Some of the men recognised the sound and looked nervously at the skies above their heads. It was an infantryman from the escort who first looked away from the direction of the MLRS attack and noticed his regiments two most senior officers, the one lying face down in the mud and the one stood a little behind with his arm still extended, a wisp of blue/grey smoke dissipating around the muzzle of the pistol held in that hand.
23rd MRRs new commander holstered the pistol and gestured to the signaller who ran across.
“Halt the battalion and have the company commanders join me here, we have some quick changes to make and then they can resume.”
The delay cost another twenty minutes, and when once more the armour headed west the regimental command group was included.
Pat Reed received word that the third and largest formation yet had entered the valley, and with it came a further air raid warning. He had expected it sooner but any delay could only be to the good in the long term.
He looked around the command post and up at its very substantial roof, deciding that Jim Popham could run the show for a while. He was a hands-on soldier and that was his excuse for leaving the main CP.
“Timothy?”
The adjutant raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Sir?”
“Call Sarn’t Higgins, tell him to bring up a Warrior for me and Defence Platoons reserve section, and tell Jim Popham that until he hears otherwise, he has the battalion, understood?”
“Er, no sir, is that wise?”
Pat paused in the entrance to the CP, looking back at his Adjutant.
“Timothy, I just told you that until further notice Major Popham is the ‘The Daddy’, but that does not make you my Mother.”
The Warriors had not yet arrived and random mortar rounds were landing over to the left so Pat ducked into the dugout cum briefing room to wait, and there found the two snipers, Stef and Bill sharing a mug of coffee.
“As you were, chaps.” Both men had stood respectfully on recognising the CO, and now relaxed, sinking back onto their haunches. Pat squinted as if trying to see through the side of their metal mug, trying to discern the constituent parts that made up the hot beverage within.
“I don’t suppose you have any sugar in there, do you?”
“If you want, I’ve got some artificial sweeteners somewhere, Boss?”